


You're Something Out of a Dream (Messing with my Head)

by Ayano_18



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Catra (She-Ra) Needs a Hug, F/F, Fluff, Human AU, Human Catra (She-Ra), Mild Sexual Content, Modern Era, POV Adora (She-Ra), catradora
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 47,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29737938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayano_18/pseuds/Ayano_18
Summary: I wish everything would just stop. I wish I could stop imagining her blacked out in an alley somewhere. I wish I could forget, just for a little bit.The universe grants my wish in the form of a truck, headlights, and shattered glass.Modern au- Adora loses her memory in a car accident, and Catra has to live with the guilt.
Relationships: Adora & Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Bow & Glimmer (She-Ra), Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra)
Comments: 122
Kudos: 215





	1. Honest Confessions on Letting Go

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I've been working on this for a while now, and I figured it's finally time to share the first chapter. 
> 
> This story is inspired by Mizzswan's "Dream a Little Dream of Me."  
> Go check it out if you're a fan of the TV show Reign!  
> Title comes from "Celeste" by Ezra Vine. 
> 
> Anyway, without any further ado, here we go. Enjoy :)

This can’t be happening. This can’t possibly be happening. 

No, we’re fine. We’re happy. At least, we were. We have a house, a marriage, a child. We’re a family. I want to laugh at the absurdity. I want to scream that I told her so, because I did tell her so. She promised me this would never happen. She promised. 

_ She’s staring at you, Adora. She’s waiting for you to say something. Anything.  _

What am I supposed to say? Does she really expect me to tell her that I’m okay? That everything’s fine? Because it’s not fine. I’m not okay. I want to shout and scream, let her know just how mad I am, but I keep thinking of Finn. My darling little kid, sleeping soundly upstairs. I can almost see them tip-toeing down the stairs, looking a little scared but being too brave to admit it. I can almost see them glancing up at me with those big blue eyes and asking me why their mommy is crying. They’re four. I don’t think they’d understand if I told them, “ _ Because mamá decided to get high and black out in an alley somewhere. _ ” So no, I won’t cry or scream, but that doesn’t mean I’m not mad. I can’t even look at her. 

Steady rain falls outside as I turn away from her to watch through the window of the kitchen. Our kitchen. In the house that we bought together. She cooked me countless dinners in this room, paid bills we couldn’t afford in this room. This is our home, we’re a family, she’s my wife. I love her. 

“Please say something, Adora.” her voice is soft and low, almost as if she’s just as afraid of waking up Finn as I am. 

She wants me to say something? She wants me to say something. Alright. 

“Was it good?”

Was it familiar? Did it feel like old times? Like it was before I came along. 

I still can’t bring myself to look at her, so I keep my eyes on the falling rain as I wait patiently for an answer. She’s probably figuring out what to say, deciding whether her answer will make me more or less mad. I don’t think I’m angry, not really. I’m hurt, upset, disappointed. I just don’t understand why she relapsed. She hasn’t done it in years. She was getting better, that’s what she told me. In some ways, I think it would be so much easier to hate her for what she did, but I don’t. I can’t. The voice in the back of my head keeps reminding me that this wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t like she intended for this to happen. She didn’t ask for it. I love her too much to walk away. Does she love me? If she did, she wouldn’t have broken her promise. Was it my fault? Did I do something wrong? Did I push her over the edge? A million different voices haunt my mind, until hers is the only one I hear. She was always good at that- being the only voice of reason in a world full of lies. 

“No.” is what she says, clear as day, and I hate myself for feeling a small sense of relief at that word. “It was a mistake, Adora.” 

All at once, I feel so stupid and so small as I finally turn to look her in the eye. She seems tired, stressed, and the lines under her eyes make her look about six years older than she is. Her usually bright, multi-colored eyes are dull. Even her brown curls hang limply. I can’t help but wonder if I look as bad as she does. My skin is probably patchy from the crying, and my eyes are probably red. I feel guilty, petty, like perhaps I’m making a big deal about nothing. It isn’t her fault, not really. It’s just so upsetting. She hasn’t done it in years, and she promised she’d never do it again. So she broke my trust in the worst way I can imagine. Does that really erase eight years of memories? Six years of marriage? Four years of parenthood? God, what if she’s high right now? What if it’s still in her system? I hope she didn’t bring that shit into my house. I don’t want it anywhere near my kid.

“I’m so sorry.” She really does sound sorry. 

No. No, mistake or not, it was her mistake to make. She should feel guilty, not me. I’ve been a loyal wife for six years, and where has that gotten me? Crying in my kitchen on a Tuesday evening, with my kid just upstairs and my drugged up wife standing before me while I ignore the voice in my head that’s telling me to fall into her arms. Not this time. 

Before I even realise I’ve moved, my feet have carried me halfway across the room. My hands grab my keys from the kitchen table, as I storm towards the door. I don’t look back, as droplets of rain decorate my hair and make finding my way to the car more difficult than it would be on a clear evening. The frantic shouts of my wife echo through the night air as she tries to coax me back inside. “Por favor no me dejes!” I don’t listen. “Adora!” 

“I’ll be back in the morning to take Finn to school.” I call out to her, before slipping into the driver’s seat and slamming the door shut behind me. My hand fumbles to put the key in the exhaust, as I let the tears fall freely down my cheeks. 

I’m on the highway before I even know it, my headlights piercing the darkness as I drive to get away. I just need some distance, distance from her. I just want everything to stop. The road ahead of me blurs with tears and rain. I just want tonight to be erased from existence. I wish it had never happened. We were happy. Twenty birthdays we’ve celebrated together. Seven Christmases, six anniversaries, four parents’ evenings and a Christening. All those memories were reduced to nothing. Nothing. If I don’t have her trust, what do I have? Maybe I should’ve stayed. Maybe we should have talked this out. I’m not mad about what she did, I’m just mad that she broke her promise. Especially after everything we went through in college.

A friend told me once that if you go somewhere and it turns out not to be the right place you can always go somewhere else. But if you’re running away, nowhere is ever going to be the right place. Maybe that’s why I have no idea where I’m going. Glimmer lives only a few miles away, but if I told her what happened, she’d probably do something  _ irrational.  _ Irrational, like drive back to my house and exchange some very forceful words with Catra. It’s safe to say I can’t deal with that right now, and neither can Catra. I don’t want to push her over the edge again. I don’t want to make her relapse. 

I take the next exit, still driving blindly. I don’t know where I am, all I know is that I have to be as far away from Catra as I possibly can right now. What if me leaving made it all worse? I still remember what happened the first time I walked out. She drank so much that night, the doctors thought she might die. She didn’t though, thank God, but I promised from that moment on never to walk out on an argument. That was when she promised to try and quit her addiction. I guess we both broke our promises. 

Frosta lives near too, but we’re not that close. In fact, I haven’t seen her since her party last year. It would be too weird to call by unexpectedly and ask for her help, especially this late at night. That leaves me with Bow. To be honest, he’s probably the only one of my friends who won’t interrogate me for answers. Maybe I’ll stay with him tonight and figure out what to do in the morning. I have to go home, right? Catra told me what it was like when her father ran out on her family when she was little. Well, I’m not doing that to my kid. I couldn’t. I have to go home soon. I have to face my reality, no matter how much I wish I didn't. I wish everything would just stop. I wish I could stop imagining her blacked out in an alley somewhere. I wish I could forget, just for a little bit. 

The universe grants my wish in the form of a truck, headlights, and shattered glass. 

/-/

Everything hurts. The bright lights burn at my eyes so intensely that I have to squeeze them tightly shut. It’s all so loud. I can hear voices, so many voices, and the steady beep of machinery. Where the hell am I? 

“Good afternoon, Mrs Horde.” It's a soft voice, a sweet voice, and almost enough to make me want to open my eyes. Almost, but not quite. “You’ve been out for so long, we were worried you weren’t coming back to us.” she laughs, though I’m not sure what’s so funny.

Mrs Horde? That’s not my name. I squint up at her, and open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. My first thought is ‘ouch’. My second is ‘how did I get here?’ Where even is here? A hospital, by the looks of it. This room is small, and far from pleasant. Chipped paint covers all four walls, not quite white enough to be white, but too white to be anything else. A large blue curtain frames the length of the room, curving slightly at the end. Just beside the bed that I’m lying in stands a tall machine, letting off steady beeps every two seconds or so. I follow the wires with my eyes, watching as they disappear underneath the blanket just below my hand. It takes me a full minute before I realise they’re attached to me.

I try my best to ignore the flickering lights and the steady beep of the machines, and just focus on this woman’s voice. “The doctor will be in soon, but why don’t I go get your wife first?” 

My  _ what? _ I’m 18, I don’t have a wife. They must have made some mistake. I want to speak up and tell them so, that they’ve got the wrong girl and I’m far too young to be  _ married _ , but my head hurts too much to speak. I just watch the strange woman walk away as though she didn’t just drop the world’s biggest bomb in my lap. Once she’s out of sight though, I squeeze my eyes tightly shut. Maybe, if I concentrate really hard, I’ll open them someplace else. Someplace better than this. It doesn’t work. The view I see when I open my eyes is almost exactly the same, except this time there’s a girl leaning over me. She looks maybe mid 20s, with brown curls falling around her shoulders. The most striking thing about her is her different coloured eyes, and the way she’s looking at me, like she hardly recognises me. 

“Adora?” her voice is soft, just like her skin as she slips her hand into mine. “Oh, gracias.” she pulls my hand up to her mouth, pressing her lips against my knuckles as she releases a breath of relief. “Pensé que te había perdido.” I pull my hand away quickly. Who is this? She looks hurt by my sudden action, but then nods her head like she understands. Please, God, enlighten me, because I don’t have a clue. “I guess I deserved that.” she sighs with a half-laugh, and now I’m even more confused. 

She takes a step back, slipping down into the leather chair by the side of the bed, and I allow myself a moment to take her in. She’s very pretty. There’s something about her that feels almost familiar somehow, but I can’t put my finger on why. Though bright, her eyes are tired, and the dark lines beneath them suggest she hasn’t slept in a while. Her smell is unusual- like cigarettes and mint. It’s nice, I decide. I like it. She seems badass, like the kind of person who would spend their weekends watching baseball and drinking beer, listening to rock bands and riding motorbikes. Instead, she’s with me in the hospital, looking sick to death with worry. My only question is, why? The silver band that imprisons her finger makes my stomach twist uncomfortably. The matching one on mine makes it worse.

No, this can’t be right. I must be dreaming. Any moment now, I’m going to wake up in my mother’s house. I’ll be cleaning up cans that litter the floor, hiding pill bottles before my mother wakes up and tries to find them again. Then I’ll go to school and it will all be fine, just a funny story to tell my friends over lunch. Only, it doesn’t feel like a dream. No, this feels real. Too real. The pain is too much for this to be a dream. I can feel everything, it’s all so lifelike. I can’t be married though. There’s no way. I’ve never been on a date before. Never with a--

My mother would freak. My father would kill me. There’s no way I’m married to a 20-something year old woman. Not a chance in hell. So who is--

“Where’s my mom?” I blurt, my voice small, frantic, pleading. “I need to…” She has to be here, right? My mother has to be here. Sure, she isn’t great, but she must care that I’m in the hospital. She must know, right? She’s going to come in here and explain to the doctors that there’s been some mistake. She’s going to tell this woman that she is  _ not  _ my wife. That I’m not married. I’m too young, I’m-

The woman- my wife- makes a face like she’s confused. “Your mom?” she repeats softly, sadly, like she knows something I don’t, and now I’m the one who makes a face. 

“Yes, is she here?” 

“Um,” she swallows, hard. “Listen, baby, she died...three years ago.” she says that slowly, softly, as she reaches for my hand. “Don’t you remember?” 

No. No, I would remember something like that. I think I would remember my own mother’s death, the funeral, I would know that. With a deep breath, I try to clear my mind, to think, but there’s nothing. The last time I saw my mom, she was sitting on the couch, a twelve pack deep, with whiskey stained fingertips and slurred speech, listening to Regina Spektor with the lights off. She’s not dead, this woman doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Clearly she’s insane. That’s the only explanation. Clearly she belongs in some kind of psych ward if she thinks she’s married to an 18 year old with a dead mother. She’s searching my face intently now, like she’s trying to fit the pieces back into the puzzle. I pull my hand away from her again, reaching up to hold my head. It hurts, it hurts so much and this is all too much and I can’t breathe. 

“Adora.” She says my name softly, but I’m not listening. “No te entiendo. Adora-”

“Don’t touch me!” I snap, when she tries to reach for my hand again. I don’t know her. I don’t know any of this. What’s happening? My chest is tightening painfully now as I try to focus on dragging enough air into my lungs to breathe. It doesn’t work. I just want someone to tell me what’s going on. 

“Adora,” she says again, softly, and I look up at her. “Please.” she’s panicking too now, I can see it in her eyes. “Do...” she hesitates, with a heavy sigh and a pleading face. “Do you know who I am?” 

“No!” I cry softly, and her face turns dark. She looks absolutely destroyed by that answer, like I just crushed her entire world under my heel. She completely deflates, running a hand through her hair before standing up quickly. She’s out of the room before I realise she’s moved, and a swarm of people surge through the door. They begin poking, prodding, shining lights in my eyes as I keep my gaze on her. She stands by the door, far enough away for me to feel the distance, looking more and more terrified with each passing second. 

/-/

Amnesia.  _ Amnesia. _ I can’t believe that’s the final diagnosis. It was most likely caused by a skull fracture, the doctors said, and the force of which I hit my head must have knocked a good chunk of my memories out. Apparently there was an accident, though I don’t remember anything about it. No one expects me to just yet, that’s what my wife said. Those words still sound odd to say. My  _ wife.  _ I learned that her name is Catra, an unusual name, but I like it anyway. I think it's short for Catrina, but I'm too scared to ask. She said we’ve been married for six years, and we met eight years ago. I don’t remember meeting her or dating her, getting engaged or married. It seems nine years of my life have been lost somewhere down the line. I’m not Adora Grayskull anymore, I’m Adora Horde, which honestly I prefer. Glimmer told me I took Catra’s name when we got married, though I’m not sure why I’d do that. I’m not sure why I did any of this, and I’m getting nervous that I won’t ever remember. 

“Do you remember this?” Glimmer asks me, holding out her phone for me to squint at the photo she’s trying to show me. I just shake my head, ignoring how much that hurts to do so.

The picture looks like it was taken at some kind of party, maybe prom. I missed my high school prom, so that can’t be it. Although, I keep forgetting, I’m not a teen anymore. I’m 26 years old. I’m married. To a  _ woman. _ I have a life that goes beyond cleaning up after my mother and trying to get good enough grades to go to college. In the photo, I’m wearing a red dress that hugs my body nicely, cutting just above the knee. I frown. I  _ never _ wear dresses. In fact, I don’t think I even own one. My hair is held back in a ponytail, as I usually have it, and decorated with a golden pin. Beside me is Glimmer, her fluffy pink hair longer than it is now that she’s sitting next to me, but shorter than I’m used to. She wears a dress that I actually recognise from somewhere- though I’m not sure where. Her arms are wrapped tightly around Bow, who looks exactly like I remember. He’s wearing a white and gold crop top in the photo, not unusual for him, and wears a smile that lights up his whole face. With another glance, I realise that we’re all smiling, and I can’t help but wonder what we were all so happy about.

“What about this?” Glimmer asks again, shifting at the edge of the bed before swiping left on her phone to show me another photo. I don’t recognise the girl in the photo, but she’s very pretty. Golden curls fall around her shoulders, framing her face, and her smile is almost contagious, even through the phone screen. She has flowers in her hair, which I think is cute, and wears a Summer dress in many different colours. In one hand, she holds a pot with a perfect plump cactus in it, and in the other, a first place ribbon. She looks very proud to have won it, and I allow myself to smile a little, before shaking my head at Glimmer. 

“Okay, what about this one?” she asks once again, showing me a new photo. It’s my wedding. I’m dressed in a white dress with golden sleeves of lace. It’s so beautiful, and I wish I could remember it. Catra stands beside me in the photo, looking happier than a person can possibly look. She’s wearing black dress pants and a red shirt that’s missing a few too many buttons to be casual. I don’t seem to mind though- I’m smiling too. Glimmer swipes and we’re kissing, smiling against each other’s lips. I kissed a  _ woman.  _ I married a  _ woman.  _ Honestly, I still can’t believe it. I shift uncomfortably in my bed, trying not to let Glimmer see how much this hurts me to look at. “Does this ring any bells?” With another swipe, we’re at the altar, and this time, I can see how empty the seats before us are. It must have been a small ceremony, intimate, romantic. Glimmer is there, wearing a lilac dress, and so is Bow, but I don’t recognise anyone else. The smiley cactus woman is there, sitting close to the front. She must mean a lot to me, but I can’t remember why. She's holding hands with another woman who I don't recognise, with a shock of short white hair and a proud smile etched into her face. My mother isn’t there. My mother isn’t at my own wedding. Glimmer swipes again and Catra and I are dancing. She’s holding me close in her arms, her hands around my waist as we sway. It looks like she’s saying something to me, though I guess I’ll never know what. I wish I could remember. I want to remember. 

“Can we take a break?” I ask softly. My head hurts, and the idea of looking at photos all day doesn’t sound all that appealing. 

Glimmer nods, sliding off the edge of the bed and pocketing her phone. “Catra should be back in a minute.” she says with a smile, and I swallow. We haven’t spoken that much. I think she’s been trying to keep her distance, letting me talk to someone I actually recognise instead of overwhelming me. 

“Is she nice?” I ask, my voice small, and pretend not to notice the half-frown that appears on Glimmer’s face. 

“We’ve had our ups and downs.” She tells me honestly, which I appreciate, though it doesn’t help me feel better. “She’s great though.” she finishes with a smile. “You guys are so perfect for each other.” she adds with a wink that makes my stomach flip. “I’m gonna go grab a drink, do you want something?” Honestly, the idea of consuming  _ anything  _ right now makes me feel sick, but I know that nodding is the answer Glimmer wants me to give her, so I do. She smiles, a smile that says she’s proud of me, before slipping out of the door. 

Everything feels like a lot. I’m  _ married.  _ I have a _ wife.  _ Playing with the silver ring on my finger, I watch the pretty rocks shimmer in the fluorescent lights and wonder how on earth I ever managed to afford something this beautiful. I didn’t, I guess, Catra did. Still though, I must have bought hers. Maybe we share money. Married couples do that, right? It’s like some sort of twisted dream that I can’t wake from. She’s still around, but she keeps her distance. She doesn’t want to overwhelm me, I suppose, but I’m already so overwhelmed. It’s not fair. I don’t want my mother to be dead. I don’t want to be married, I just want to be 18 again, and go back to a life that’s actually mine. 

I look up as the door opens, my eyes falling on a very worried Catra as she stands awkwardly in the doorway. “Hey, Adora.” she says as she comes in, hesitating just before the bed. “How are you feeling?” 

“I’ve been better.” I say sarcastically, and immediately regret my words. She’s trying so hard to make me feel comfortable, and it can’t be easy for her, having a wife who doesn’t even remember her name.

“The doctor says it’s only temporary.” She sighs softly, before offering me a tired smile. I look away though, down at my hands. What if it isn’t temporary? What if I never remember her? “You can go home soon.” she says softly, like that will make anything better. 

“I don’t even know where home is.” I snap, and it earns me a frown. “Sorry.” I tell her, and I really am. I hate that I’m making this so difficult, though I can’t exactly be expected to stay calm, can I? 

“It’s alright.” 

“Do I have to go home with you?” I ask without looking up. My voice is direct, cold, and I can’t even imagine how much it must hurt to hear. 

“Well, I mean-”

“I don’t know you.” 

“I know.” she says softly, with a sad smile, and I feel bad for bringing it up. It must be so awful for her. Glimmer said they weren’t sure if I would even make it. Maybe it would have been easier if I hadn’t. 

“Maybe you could go home with Glimmer?” she suggests softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind one ear. “Or I can call Bow, and he’ll--”

“No.” I say quickly, ignoring Catra’s startled frown. I’m curious to see where we live. Besides, maybe if I go back home, the familiar environment might bring back some of my memories. Anything is better than being poked and prodded by doctors, or quizzed with photos by Glimmer. “I want to go home with you.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, and I nod, offering her the tiniest smile, which she returns. “That won’t be for a while.” she tells me. “For now, you should get some rest.” With one arm, she gestures for me to lie down, pulling the blanket up around my shoulders.

I notice the way she brushes past my arm, but is careful not to allow her fingers to linger for too long. It’s sweet, and thoughtful, and I suddenly understand why I married this woman. As I listen to her footsteps walk away, I call out without thinking to the quiet room. “Thank you.” 

Although I can’t see it, somehow I just know that she’s smiling. 

/-/

The room is dark the next time I open my eyes. The steady beeping of the machines is what rouses me from my sleep. Still, my body aches too much to move, so I just lie still, listening to the silence of the room. That is, until the soft sound of a page turning fills it, and I look up as quickly as I can without giving myself whiplash. My eyes fall on the leather chair beside the bed, and the small lap lit to give a little light. That’s where Catra sits, one leg crossed over the other and a book between her fingers. Her eyes are cast downwards, scanning the pages intently. 

“Did I wake you?” Catra asks softly, without even looking up. The corners of her mouth tilt up into a half-smirk, but she still doesn’t turn her eyes away from her book. She hasn’t changed her clothes, and her hair is a little messy. In fact, the rough way she looks is more than just a little attractive, though I’d rather die than say that aloud. 

“Why aren’t you asleep?” I demand, a little too forcefully, but Catra doesn’t seem to notice. If she does, she doesn’t comment. She has to be tired, there’s no way she isn’t. 

“I don’t sleep much.”

“You should.” I return simply, rolling over onto my side. “Aren’t you tired?”

Looking up from her book for the first time, Catra smiles sweetly, a little too sweetly in fact. “What if you need something?” she asks softly, fondly, as I squint back in the darkness. “I’m alright.” Still, that doesn’t stop me from sitting up, wincing from the effort and groaning from the pain. Catra shushes me, closing the book between her fingers. “Vuelve a dormir, querida.”

I don’t understand when she talks like that. “I’m fine.” I insist quickly when it looks like Catra is going to get up. She does anyway, crossing the room to be by my side. If she’s about to say something, she’s cut off by the loud cry that tumbles from my parted lips. I writhe a little, stretching my legs out and gripping onto my side as if all my stitches will unravel otherwise. My vision blurs, and all of a sudden, my head feels light and fuzzy. It takes me a long time to realise Catra is talking to me, and I try my best to tune in to the sound. 

“Talk to me, Adora.” she whispers softly, but urgently. “Tell me where it hurts so I can help you.” 

I don’t though. I don’t because the pain is gone almost as quickly as it came. I just shake my head a little, letting out a breath I didn’t know I had been holding. “I’m okay.” I tell her softly, looking up at her worried face.

For a moment, she seems not to believe me, but then she nods her head. “Okay,” she says reluctantly, before sinking back down in her chair. She doesn’t stay down there long though, as she jumps back up when her phone rings. “It’s just my mom.” she tells me, as she heads towards the door.

“Where are you going?” I ask quickly, cursing how desperate I sound. She looks back with surprised eyes. She always leaves the room to take her calls, and she gets a lot of them. Honestly, I’m curious to know why. “You can answer it in here, you know.” I tell her, almost jokily. “There’s no law against taking phone calls in hospitals.” 

Catra just nods her head with an unsure smile, and honestly she looks as though the idea makes her sick. Still, she can’t exactly back out now, so she answers the phone at the edge of the room. “It’s late.” is the first thing she says. No ‘hello’, just ‘it’s late.’ “She’s doing alright.” she says softly, glancing over her shoulder at me. She pauses, listening, before, “Why are they still up?” She sounds annoyed, frustrated, and she sighs heavily. “No, mom, I-” she tries to interject a few more times, to no avail. “They have school tomorrow.” she says simply, pinching the bridge of her nose. “No!” Another pause. “No, I need to talk to them first. They can’t just-” She rolls her eyes, and honestly it is the greatest thing I have ever seen. “This isn’t the kind of thing you can tell a child over the phone.”

Wait.

“Okay. Tell them I’ll stop by tomorrow.” she pauses, crossing her arms over her chest before speaking again. “Okay, I’ll do my best. Adiós, mom.” she hangs up with a heavy sigh, turning back to face me. 

I’m not paying attention though. I’m still too busy wrapped up in her last words.

_ Child…School…  _

“Do we have a kid?!” I blurt, a little too loudly, and she sighs with a dismayed look on her face. My panic and confusion must be clear on my face as Catra nods her head. No wonder she had been taking her phone calls in a different room. I have a kid and I don’t even remember. 

“I didn’t know how to…” They’re school aged. How old is that? At least four! They’re probably so confused and- oh God, what if they want to see me? “It’s been a stressful few days, I didn’t want to overwhelm you.” she says soothingly as she takes another step towards me. I need a minute to process this. 

“How old are they?” I breathe after a few minutes of silence, my head still reeling. 

“Four.” she says softly. 

“What’s their name?”

“Finn.” 

“Finn…” I repeat softly, like a hymn, listening to the way my kid’s name sounds in my mouth. My kid that I don’t even remember. “Do they like me?” I ask quietly after a moment, watching Catra’s face change. 

“They love you.” she tells me sincerely, and I can’t help but smile. I’m a mom, and a good one. It’s a relief to know my own mother didn’t screw me up too badly. 

“Where are they?” 

“With my mother.” she sighs. “I’m trying to figure all this out. What to do.” 

I just nod, unsure what to say. I feel bad for being such a burden, but there’s nothing either of us can do about that now. I guess we’ll just have to wait out this storm together. 


	2. When Love Arrives

It’s been a week and a half since I woke up with no memories, married to a woman I don’t know and a child I don’t remember. With a nervous smile, I twist the wedding ring around my finger, trying to settle my nerves as I wait in the passenger seat of Catra’s car. I wonder how Catra proposed. Was it romantic? I hope so. Maybe  _ I’m  _ the one who proposed. I want to remember, it’s so frustrating. 

The sound of the car door opening makes me jump, and I look up to see Bow’s reassuring smile. “Okay, you’re all set.” he tells me, before leaning over to fasten my seatbelt. “Don’t worry,” he adds with a smile. “You’re in great hands.” He must notice my uncertain frown, and the way I twist my ring in my lap, because he rests a steady hand on my shoulder. “Hey, it’ll be okay.” he says softly. “I’m just a phone call away.” The trunk of the car slams shut, making me flinch, and Bow offers me another small smile. “You’ll be okay.” he tells me seriously, before closing the door. 

Catra slips into the driver’s seat a moment later, reaching over to adjust the blanket in my lap. “Are you warm enough?” she asks, and I nod.

Peering out the window, I watch Bow’s smiling figure get smaller and smaller until Catra turns the corner and he’s gone. We drive in silence for a while, as I gather the courage to glance up at Catra. Her expression is focussed, as she keeps her eyes on the road. She’s still pretty, and now that I’m 100% sure she’s my wife, I feel kinda lucky for scoring such a catch. She’s easily a solid 10. I wonder what she thinks I am. The next thing I wonder is if I’m in love with her. I suppose I must be, since I married her, but now I don’t even know who she is. Does she still love me? What if I’m not the same person I was before the accident. She’s sat upright in her seat, fingers gripped tightly around the steering wheel. Overall, she looks nervous, though I’m not sure why. Maybe because she is about to take a strange girl, who is only sort of the love of her life, into a home that I don’t even remember. Then again, shouldn’t I be the nervous one? After all, Catra is a stranger to me. She could be taking me to the middle of the woods to murder me for all I know. She isn’t though, I’m sure. For some reason, I trust her. Each house we pass by I think is ours, but Catra just keeps driving until eventually we pull up into a paved driveway. The wrap-around porch frames the front of the house, as grey bricks make the front archway look like a castle. The fence leading to the back garden could use a lick of paint, but that just makes the house look lived-in.

I try to take in as much of the outside as I can, before Catra is steering me towards the front door. “Sorry about the mess,” she says as we both step inside. I instantly fall in love with the kitchen- spacious with plenty of counter space and an average-sized dining table towards the far side of the wall. The countertops are all made of clean white stone and the drawers and cupboards are made of dark wood. The floors are panels of dark limba- black wood that branches out as far as I can see. There are lots of windows, which I like, but most of the curtains are closed. From my position by the door, I can make out the contents of the living room- a grey, modern style sofa with two matching arm chairs, all pointed towards a large TV. A familiar smell fills the air, one that I recognise but can’t figure out why. Home, I suppose. Whatever that means. 

With a wistful sigh, I look up across the room to see Catra sorting through the mail. Her fingers move quickly, flicking through the small stack, before she tosses them all onto the counter with a sigh. 

“Where’s Finn?” I ask softly, and she looks up.

“With my mother.” she tells me. “Just until I can…” Explain that their mother has no idea who they are. “You must be tired.” I’m not. I’ve spent the last week sleeping, I think I’ve had enough. “The doctor said you should get some rest.”

“Right.” 

“Adora?” she asks softly, and I look up to meet her eye. “Do you remember anything about the night of the accident?” 

I just shake my head. “No.” I tell her, because I really don’t remember anything. “I don’t even know how to drive.” I must have learned. I wonder who taught me. Maybe my mother, though that seems unlikely. Thinking about her hurts a little, now that I know she’s dead. I can’t help but miss what little of her I can actually remember. “Why?” I ask, after Catra says nothing. 

“Just wondering.” she says quickly, and I frown. I’m missing something. She looks different. She looks...I’m not sure if guilty is the right word. “Let’s get you to bed.” she says after another moment of silence, and I just nod, following her- with great difficulty- up the stairs. 

The bedroom has a white and grey theme, and looks more lived-in than the rest of the house. The bed is still unmade, and makeup is strewn across the top of the dresser. It seems we’re both the messy one in this relationship. Also on the dresser sits a small TV, facing towards the bed. One wall appears to be entirely windows, though they’re now covered up by a grey curtain. Opposite the door we enter through is another door that is hanging slightly open, and from here I can make out the edge of a shower. The floor is the same dark wood of downstairs, except for a white rug that the bed is sat on. Overall, it’s pretty plain. There are no decorations, no keepsakes, nothing to make this room feel homely. With a frown, I sit down on the edge of the bed, looking around.

Catra stands in the corner, tapping away on her phone with a concentrated look on her face. “Do you need anything?” she asks, without looking up, and I ignore the sinking sense of disappointment in my chest as I shake my head. She doesn’t see though, she isn’t watching, so I just let out a sigh before tugging back the blankets and laying my aching body down on the mattress. It’s certainly more comfortable than the one from the hospital, but it’s still weird sleeping in a bed that I don’t recognise to be my own.

For a moment, I think that maybe Catra will lie down with me, but she turns towards the door. 

“Wait!” 

She turns back, looking up from her phone with a tilt of her head. “Yes?” 

“Aren’t you going to…” I start, before blushing like an idiot at how dumb I must sound. “It’s just, you didn’t sleep at the hospital.” I conclude, looking down at my hands because I can’t bear to look at her. 

“I have to make a few phone calls, check on Finn.” Catra says slowly, almost as if she isn’t telling the whole truth. “Try and get some sleep, okay? I’ll be back in a bit.” I just nod, unsure what else to say, as she disappears out of the room, closing the door softly behind her. 

I just stare up at the ceiling for a while, waiting for sleep to take me, as my thoughts race. In a way, I’m relieved that Catra didn’t stay. We’re  _ married.  _ We must have done... _ stuff. _ But I don’t remember any of it. Catra doesn’t expect me to…? No, she wouldn’t. We don't even know each other! We’re completely strangers. Except, we’re not really, are we? She probably knows everything about me, things I don’t even know about myself. She’s like the gatekeeper to all my memories, and I hate it. With a sigh, I turn over onto my side, clutching the blankets in my fist. I wonder what it would be like to sleep with a woman. Not in  _ that  _ way, just to fall asleep beside each other. I’ve had sleepovers with Glimmer before, but surely this would be different, more intimate. I think it would be nice. Catra smells good, and her hands are soft. I wonder if the rest of her is the same. Still, she doesn’t seem like the kind of person to enjoy cuddling and movie watching, and baking and dating, and drinking and laughing and-- 

Maybe I’m making too quick of a judgement. I don’t know this girl at all. I don’t even know what she does for a living. Probably something cool and edgy, like tattoo art or auto shop repairs. Then again, this house is pretty big, and my hospital bill must have been a lot. Maybe I’m the provider for the house. Oh God, what’s my job? Do I even have one?

With another sigh, I begin drumming my fingers on my stomach, listening to the hollow sound it makes. I’m pretty muscular. I’m not sure why I was so surprised by that when I realised, since I’ve always been into sports, but even now, feeling the indents of my abs, I can't quite get over it. I can’t sleep, and now I’m bored of trying. I’ve slept too much already these past couple of days, I can’t take it anymore. Maybe Catra would let me go for a walk, just for a little bit. I might get lost though, or hit by another truck, so she probably won’t let me.

Closing my eyes, I listen to the silence around me, until I realise it isn’t silence at all. Catra is downstairs, and I can hear her heavy footsteps as she walks across the wooden floor. She’s on the phone- I can tell by the one sided conversation, though I don’t catch everything she says.  _ “My fault.” _ I hear that clear as day, and it sparks my interest to listen harder.  _ “I shouldn’t have let her leave.”  _ S he sounds upset, tormented, haunted, and I frown. “ _ Todo es mi culpa.”  _ What was her fault? I was the one driving, it was my fault for being reckless. I don’t want her to blame herself, and the thought makes my chest tighten.  _ “She doesn’t even know who I am. She’s not my wife anymore.”  _ I won’t lie and say I haven’t been thinking the same thing. Maybe it would have made more sense for me to go home with Glimmer. At least I remember her.  _ “I just want my wife back…”  _ is what almost breaks me, and my frown deepens. I stop listening after that, blinking away the tears until they’re gone. I just close my eyes tightly and pray for sleep to come.

/-/

_ It isn’t unusual for me to show up early for class. That’s how it has always been, for every single class since high school. Now that I’m in college, nothing has changed. The centre of the lecture hall is always the best place to sit- it’s a safe distance from the front but not so far that I can’t read the board without my glasses. I’m not sure why, but I haven’t been wearing them much. Maybe I’m just trying something. College is a time for fresh starts, right? I like that about this place. No one knows me here, I can be whoever I want to be. Other students begin to filter slowly into the room, and I almost convince myself that the empty seats either side of me don’t bother me.  _

_ We’re well into the class, discussing the features of the course, when the door swings open. A young girl steps into the room, looking around for a moment, before turning her attention to the teacher. “Is this administrative law?” she asks, and the professor nods, a little bemused. She frowns for a moment, before shrugging. “Good enough.” _

_ I watch this girl with a newfound interest, discarding the notes I was scribbling into my planner. She has the most astonishing eyes- one blue and one yellow- and they sparkle dangerously. Her messy brown hair falls around her shoulders in curls, bouncing a little as she makes her way through the line of seats towards her friends at the back of the room. She has a distinct aura, a confidence that I find myself jealous of. Confidence is something I’ve always struggled with. My eyes widen when she turns to look at me, catching my gaze. I just turn away, blushing a little.  _

_ That gets her attention.  _

_ I _ _ gnoring the calls of her friends, she turns, stalking towards me.  _

_ “Hey,” she smirks, slipping down into the seat beside me. “Why so lonely?”  _

_ I just blush again, trying not to think about the once empty seat beside me. Why is making friends so hard for me? Why can’t I have the same kind of confidence as this girl? I can’t tell if she is making fun of me or not. Why else would she sit with me instead of her friends? I won’t let myself be so naïve as to believe she’s trying to be my friend. Still, I have to try and hide my smile at the thought that I’m not sitting alone anymore. It fills my chest with a strange, confusing feeling of expectation. I'm not sure if 'hope' is the right word. _

_ “Ms Horde, if you have something to say, you can say it after class.” Professor Hordak sighs, turning back towards the board to continue writing. Catra sticks her tongue out at him as soon as his back is turned. _

_ She pays attention for the rest of the lesson though, taking notes in her little brown notebook. Letting down my guard, I allow myself to relax, focussing on what Hordak is saying, and writing it down, my signature loopy handwriting marking the page.  _

_ She’s staring at me. Why is she staring at me? I rest my head on my spare hand, trying to concentrate on what I’m writing. Glancing up at her again, I notice that she isn’t watching me anymore, instead listening to Hordak. Her tongue hangs partially out of her mouth as she scribbles into her book. Her multi-coloured eyes squint with concentration, as she pushes a strand of hair out of her face. When she’s done, she lets out a quiet sigh, leaning back in her chair. I look away quickly as her eyes meet mine. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her grin a little, keeping her eyes on me for a moment before looking away.  _

_ The bell brings me instant relief, as I begin to shove my things back into my bag. The strange girl packs up too, rising from her seat. For a moment, I think she’s just going to walk away. She doesn’t though. Instead, she stops, turning back to me with a grin. “The name’s Catra, by the way.” she tells me, even though I didn’t ask. Holding out a hand to me, I take it, shaking with a confused smile.  _

_ “Adora.” I tell her, and her dorky grin gets bigger.  _

_ “Cool.”  _

_ I have mixed feelings about this girl. She seems nice, nicer than I expected her to be anyway. I want to ask her why she sat with me, but before I can, her friends are barrelling towards us from the back of the classroom. They’re a mix of laughter, high fives, and inside jokes that I’ll never be a part of, but I don’t mind. That’s what I tell myself, anyway. Turning away from them, I make my way towards the classroom door, but her voice stops me.  _

_ “Hey, Adora!” I turn back, half expecting her to call out some kind of insulting joke, but she surprises me with a warm smile. “See you next lesson.” I smile back, trying to ignore the dirty looks her friends give me, and the pretty, dark haired girl with sparkling hazel eyes who zips her fingers into Catra’s.  _

_ “Bye, Catra.” I nod, making my way out of the classroom. I don’t know if we’re friends, but I’d like to think we could be. I’d like to think I have a friend now. My first friend. Smiling to myself, I continue down the corridor, not caring that I’m late to my next class.  _

/-/

When I wake, I can’t shake the nagging feeling that my dream meant something important, but by now, I’ve forgotten most of it anyway. My head hurts too much to fixate on it, as the drugs they gave me at the hospital have worn off, and I can’t even move for how bad my body aches. The room is spinning, grey walls blurring together, and it makes me feel sick. I’m pulled from my thoughts by a distinct cry of agony, that is far too loud for me to process. Slamming my hands over my ears, I try to drown out the screams until I realise they are my own. 

“Adora?” The door swings open to reveal Catra, who moves quickly towards me. "Hey,” she tries softly, reaching a hand out to me, but I bat it away and continue writhing in pain.

“My head.” I cry, shaking my head. That’s a bad idea. I can almost hear my brain sloshing around in my skull, and I’m afraid it will leak out of my ears if I move. Catra stands, turns, and heads out of the room. I almost can’t believe she just left. The pain is so great, and this all hurts so much, I can hardly process. Still, she comes back a moment later with a bottle of pills and a glass of water. 

“Hey, Adora?” she tries again, softly. “You have to take these, okay?” 

I just shake my head, letting out a groan as I begin to claw at my own arms. It leaves streaks of pinkened skin beneath my nails, but I don’t care. “No,” I whine, as Catra takes my hands away from clawing at my skin, so I press them against my ears instead. It muffles the sounds, but also keeps my brain within the confines of my skull, as I’m so sure it’s going to fall out. 

“Adora.” Catra tries again, keeping her voice steady. “Come on, you have to take them.” she wants to reach out to me, I can tell, but she’s scared I’ll reject her advance. “You’ll feel better if you do.” she promises. 

With a deep breath to centre myself, I sit up slowly, my head still reeling, and accept whatever Catra is offering me. If it will make the pain go away, I don’t care what it is. Once I’ve gulped down all the water, I hand the glass back to Catra taking deep shaking breaths. “I’m sorry.” I don’t flinch this time, as Catra begins to rub circles into the small of my back. “I’m so sorry, Catra.” 

“Do you want to go back to bed?” Catra asks in a soft voice, and I nod even though I don’t. “It’s going to be okay.” she whispers as she helps me lie down, her eyes laced with worry. Leaning over me, she tugs at the blanket, draping it over my shoulders. “I promise.” I let out a quiet groan, but settle down anyway, feeling a little bit more comfortable now that Catra’s here. She doesn’t stay long though, and the last thing I see before I black out completely is her ducking out of the door.

/-/

“Adora?” I don’t know what time it is. The curtains at the windows block the outside world away from me, so I can’t see just how sunny it is out there. I hear the door creak open, so I sit up as much as I can to catch a glimpse of why. Catra stands in the doorway, juggling two bowls in her arms. Her left hand clutches two spoons, and her right hand clings onto what looks like a few DVD cases. “How are you feeling?” she asks after a moment of silence. 

“Fine.” I lie, before changing my answer. “Better.” 

Catra offers me a small smile, before moving further into the room. “Um, well I brought you some soup and…” she hesitates, setting the bowls down onto the dresser and looking down at the dvds in her hand. “Well, I wondered if you wanted to watch a movie or something. You know...with me?” she asks hesitantly. I just blink up at her, as her cheeks turned red. “No importa, lo siento,” she half-laughs quickly, making her escape towards the door. “I’ll just leave this here and-”

“Catra, wait.” She looks up, a hesitant look of hope etched onto her face. “What movies have you got?” I ask slowly, offering her the smallest of smiles. 

Still, her face lights up, as she moves back over to the discarded pile of DVDs. “Uh, well, I brought up Die Hard.” she tells me, turning one of the cases over in her hands. “It was always your favourite.” she adds with a soft smile that makes my stomach flip. To my knowledge, I’ve never even seen that film. How can it be my favourite? Catra is looking at me intently though, and I want to make her feel better, so I just nod like I knew that all along. It earns me a smile that I don’t think I deserve. I watch her for a moment as she slips the disk out of the case and fiddles with the TV remote. Her fingers move so gracefully, like she’s done it a thousand times before. Her hands are soft, I know that already, and for some reason I want her to come sit with me so I can hold them. I don’t tell her that though, I just blush in my seat. “Here,” she says after a moment, placing a warm bowl of soup in my lap, and passing me a spoon. “Careful, it’s still hot.” she tells me, like I’m a child, and I frown. She does sit on the bed with me in the end, though she keeps her distance, positioning herself strategically at the end of the mattress.

We sit in silence for so long that it could have been forever, as the TV shows me clips from a film I don’t recognise. I only pretend to eat my soup. “Who were you talking to?” I ask, and Catra looks up like I made her jump. “On the phone.” 

She hesitates. “Our kid.” 

“Oh.” She says it so casually, like the thought doesn’t make my stomach flip upside down. “Do they know that…?”

“No.”

“Are you going to tell them?”

Catra shrugs. “They think you’re sick.” she sighs softly. “I don’t know how to tell them. I don’t know how to make this make sense.” I just nod. It can’t be easy for Catra, but she can’t keep Finn in the dark forever. What is she going to do if I never get my memories back? Never let them come home? “It’s not really something you can explain to a child over the phone.” she tells me sadly, her eyes fixed on the TV. “They’re with my mother for now, but they’ll have to come home eventually.” 

Right. “What about your father?” I ask softly, and Catra’s shoulders tense. 

“Oh, um…” she sighs softly. “I don’t really have one.” she tells me, and I immediately feel awful. “He left when I was little.” 

Way to go, jello brain. “Oh, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright,” she tells me, but it doesn’t sound alright. “It was a long time ago.” She offers me a sad smile, which only makes me feel worse, so I look back down at my bowl. 

“I don’t really have a dad either.” I tell her softly. My parents divorced when I was five, and that’s why my mother started drinking. She was almost never conscious for the holidays, which left me with a lot of bad Christmases. I stopped caring when I got older though. It became like some kind of weird tradition. I don’t see my dad much anymore, except at Thanksgiving once a year. He’s busy a lot with work. He owns his own company, called the First Ones. They manufacture and sell tech products. Maybe that’s where I work now. Catra doesn’t react much to what I said, probably because she already knew that. I keep forgetting that she  _ knows  _ me. She probably knows about my sucky childhood because I already told her about my sucky childhood. My Christmases surrounded by hard liquor and foodless thanksgivings. I frown a little, before slumping down in bed, focusing on the TV. I don’t even know what I’ve told her- probably everything there is to know about me.

She’s watching me. I can feel her eyes burning holes into the side of my head. I don’t respond though, I just ignore her, and she sighs, turning back to watch the movie. 


	3. Addicted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one today- sorry!

_ It’s raining. Hard.  _

_ I’ve been watching the raindrops throw themselves against the window for the past half an hour. When the thunder cracks and lightning breaks out across the sky in great streaks of light, it echoes through the otherwise empty room, casting long, dark shadows across the hardwood floor.  _

_ She isn’t home yet. Why isn’t she home yet?  _

_ It’s late and dark and stormy and she’s still out there somewhere. Every time I close my eyes, I just see visions of her, wasted in an alley somewhere, or dead at the side of the road. What am I supposed to do when I get that call? The one telling me that she finally took a few too many and there’s nothing anyone can do to help her. How am I supposed to do this without her?  _

_ With a sigh, I pull out my phone, checking again for a message. Nothing. Scrolling up, I read the last few messages I sent to her.  _

“Where are you?”

“Are you okay?”

“Please come home.”

_ If I had less pride, I’d call her. I’ll wait just ten more minutes.  _

_ It’s cold in our apartment, but I don’t have the energy to go get a blanket, so I just sit here shivering on the couch. My thoughts are as lost as I feel in this house that doesn’t quite feel like a home unless Catra is here. Everything about this feels wrong. What am I even supposed to say when Catra comes home?  _

“Hi, remember me? I’m the girlfriend you let down.” 

_ I glance up at the clock on the wall. The hands keep ticking, like a bomb that’s yet to go off. It’s quiet- too quiet. I would turn the TV on for background noise, but I’m scared to find a news report of a young girl found dead. I’m absolutely miserable. I can’t think of another way to describe it. This isn’t how I thought my life would turn out. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take. Nothing at all can distract me. When I’m not at class or working, I’m just waiting, sending texts into the void and hoping, praying that she’ll come home soon. _

“Where are you?” 

_ I look up from my drink at the sound of keys jangling at the front door. After the mess Catra has been making of herself lately, I haven’t been drinking much. Someone has to stay sober right? Someone has to stay home. I feel like that’s all I do now, sit around and wait for Catra, or the phone call telling me this is all finally over. Instead of alcohol, I hold a glass of sparkling cider between my fingers, sloshing it around but never bringing it to my lips. I can’t tell for certain what I’m feeling, or if I’m even feeling at all. As the door swings open, I stay put on the sofa, just listening.  _

_ When no one rounds the corner into the living room though, I groan, dragging myself away from the comfort of the sofa and my drink that I leave behind on the coffee table. The dark haired girl looks up from her phone as I step into the blackened kitchen, offering me a goofy grin that makes my stomach flip, but not in the way it’s supposed to.  _

_ “I thought you were sleeping.” Catra explains, her goofy smile turning into a look of guilt at my hard expression. “I didn’t want to wake you.” She tries again, but I’m clearly not interested. With a small huff, I turn away from Catra and towards our bedroom door. “I’m going to bed.” I declare, to no one in particular. The apartment is too cramped. Even if I were to retreat to another room, lock a door, anything, Catra would still be here. She’s everywhere, and I just need her gone. I need somewhere that doesn’t scream “Catra Horde!”  _

_ “Adora, wait.”  _

_ I don’t. In fact, I make it almost to the doorway before Catra’s hand stops me, spinning me around. I tug my arm from Catra’s grip, looking down at her with angry eyes.  _

_ “I’m sorry.” She tries, but I’m not interested.  _

_ I hold a hand up in Catra’s face. “Stop.” I say simply, and the smaller girl blinks back at me in confusion. “Just drop it, okay? It’s fine.” I turn back to the bedroom, but Catra tugs on my arm again.  _

_ “I just wanted you to-” _

_ “Catra.” I say again, having passed my level of patience. “I don’t care.”  _

_ This time, I make it through the bedroom door and almost to the bed before Catra catches up to me, following like a lost puppy. “It doesn’t  _ sound  _ like you don’t care.” _

_ I snap my head back around, a witty comeback ready on the tip of my tongue, but the words die before they can escape my lips. I swallow back my anger, feeling the fire that burned inside my chest now reduce to ash as my eyes fall on Catra. She’s staring up at me with those gorgeous multi-colored eyes, painted with guilt and framed with hope. Raindrops decorate her brown curls, and her clothes are soaked through. I can hear the rain outside, getting heavier and heavier, darker and colder. I’m just too tired to fight.  _

_ Nodding mutely, I open my arms out as a sort of invitation. Catra lets out a long sigh of relief, throwing her arms around my neck, and burying her face deep in my shoulder. Ordinarily, I would breath in her scent and enjoy the familiarity of home, but this time I’m scared that all I’ll smell is whiskey and weed.  _

_ “Shh, it’s okay.” I coo, holding Catra a little tighter. “It’s okay.” I begin to rub soft circles into her back as Catra lets out a gentle sob, and then another, then another until she’s blubbering like a baby in our bedroom. “It’s okay, I’m here.” I really mean that. Moving my hands up into her hair, I gently brush my fingers through her dark curls. _

_ Catra’s breath catches in her throat as she chokes back another sob. She tries to take deep, shaking breaths, in and out, in and out. She clings to me like a lifeline, feeling my fingers comb softly through her hair.  _

_ After what could have been forever, Catra pulls away, looking up at me with big eyes. “I’m so sorry, Adora.” she sniffles, wiping her face with the back of her sleeve.  _

_ I just smile softly, cupping her face and wiping away her tears with my thumb. “I know.” I sigh, scanning over Catra’s face. She looks so tired, and I can’t help but wonder if I look the same. “You’re gonna get better, okay?” Her eyes go wide as she looks up with me, golden and blue and laced with hope. “We’re gonna be okay.” I lean forward, placing a soft kiss on Catra’s forehead, then on her lips, then the tip of her nose, revelling in the sound of my girlfriend’s giggles. “Come on,” I whisper, taking Catra’s hand. “Let’s go to bed.” _

  
  


_ /-/ _

  
  


I must have fallen asleep, because the last thing I remember is watching a movie with Catra. The television is now as dark as the rest of the room, and the blanket has been pulled up around my shoulders in the night. I sit up, rubbing my head. Everything feels fuzzy, almost like a dream, and I can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right. 

Almost as soon as I wake up, I feel the pain again, coursing through my veins. I try to sit up, but my body screams at me to lie still, and I can’t move at all. “Catra?” I call out, but my voice is quiet and hoarse. My head reels, and I feel sick. My throat is so dry, I need pills, water, anything to numb the pain. “Catra!” I call out again, louder this time. Why isn’t she responding? Maybe she’s gone out. Letting out a low groan, I dig my nails deep into the mattress, feeling hot tears sting at my eyes. Panic begins to rise in my chest before I even know what it is, which only makes the burning sensation worse. Before I know it, I’m crying, each sob shaking my body with such force that it hurts. My nails tear through the fabric of the bed, as my pillow grows damp beneath me. 

I don’t stop when I hear the bedroom door creak open. I don’t stop when a tall shadowy figure leans over me. I only stop when I feel soft fingers brush past my neck and move up into my hair. They entwine with each blonde strand, combing gently through each knot and tangle until I remember how to breathe again. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Catra whispers to the dark room. She keeps stroking soft hands through my hair brushing it in a way that feels familiar. “It’s okay, I’m here.” She is here, and the thought makes me feel better. My shaking breaths become more steady ones as I listen to her voice. “I’m here.” Swallowing back another sob, I take a final deep breath that seems to do the trick to calm me down. Composing myself, I wipe my face quickly with the back of my hand, despite how much that hurts to do. I try to stifle the groan of agony that I feel, but of course Catra hears it. “Where does it hurt?” she asks, watching as my fists tighten around the edge of the blanket. 

“Everywhere.” I groan. 

She laughs a little, which makes me smile. “You have to be more specific so I know what to give you.” she explains. 

“Mm...” I try my best to focus on the source of the pain, before replying, “my head.”

“Okay,” Catra whispers again, gently untangling her fingers from my hair. “I’ll be right back, okay?” As her fingers slip away from me, I feel myself begin to panic again. The empty space where Catra was standing now lies waiting to be filled, and every second she’s gone is another second that I can’t breathe. I try to take another choked breath, staring up at the dark ceiling and waiting impatiently for Catra’s return. She comes back a few minutes later, but to me it felt like forever. “Here,” she says softly, holding out a cup of water and two pills. I sit up as much as I can, groaning from the effort. That’s when I notice Catra has changed her clothes. She now wears sweatpants and a sweatshirt, and her hair is held back in a loose ponytail. I down the pills with the water, then collapse into the pillows with a low groan. 

“Are you okay?” Catra asks, sincerity lining her tone. The bed shifts with her weight as she sits down on the edge of the mattress. For a moment, I think about lying, but something tells me Catra would see right through me anyway. Instead, I just shrug. “Are you hungry?” Honestly I don’t know, I can’t tell. I probably am, because I probably should be, but I don’t want to eat. I just shrug again, sinking down into the cushions. Catra lets out a soft sigh, one she probably hoped I wouldn’t hear, but I do. I’m being difficult, I know, and even a little annoying, but she doesn’t yell at me, she just sits there and waits. She’s nice. She’s really nice. “Well, are you cold?” she asks after a pause, and I nod my head, not because I am, just because I want Catra to feel useful. It seems to work, as her face lights up with a smile. With one hand, that I notice is shaking, she pulls the blanket around me a little more, careful not to let her fingers linger for too long. I do my best to ignore the pain and just focus on the fact that Catra is close to me, and taking care of me, because that thought makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside in the best possible way. 

/-/

“Adora,” 

I hear the steady fall of Catra’s feet against the floor, as she pads over to the bed. I’m not sure what time it is, as I don’t remember falling asleep again, but the light that seeps past the curtain’s line of defence tells me it isn’t early. Still, I pull the blanket over my head and try to disappear. 

“Adoraaa!” 

Whatever it is, she can say later. Even if she’s going out, she can just leave me here in the warmth and quiet and--

“Adora.” 

It’s soft, and oh so gentle. 

I feel the blanket being pulled away from my face, as I tighten my grip and try to claw it back. “Nooo!” I whine. “Five more minutes.”

“You have to get up.” Catra tells me softly.

I don’t though. The house is not on fire, therefore there’s no good reason I should be forced to rise from this safe cocoon of blankets and cushions. I groan again, which earns me the softest of giggles. Honestly, that sound makes my heart swoon. Even so, that is not enough to get me to rise from my comfort. Not until Catra yanks the blanket away, causing me to yelp in surprise, and squeal from the cold. “Catra!” I whine again, curling up into a ball. I’m sure my voice is just noise to Catra though, as it’s muffled by the pillows. The sudden loss of warmth and the chill of the air envelopes me, and the idea of lying here all day is suddenly much less appealing. 

“Come on,” Catra tempts. “You can invite Glimmer over as soon as we get back home.” 

That gets my attention. Looking up for the first time, I catch sight of Catra leaning over me. Her usually bright multi-coloured eyes that always catch me by surprise are dulled, and her hair hangs a little limply. All at once, a pang of guilt hits me square in the gut. Why am I being such a nuisance? “Can we watch a movie?” I ask hopefully, ignoring the childlike ring to my tone. 

Catra just smiles warmly, and nods her head. “Sure.” 

“Deal.” I give another loud groan before sitting up, rubbing my head a little as the dizziness begins to kick in. 

“See? That wasn’t so hard.” 

I just pout, shooting Catra a look that could kill as she moves over to the dresser. As I rub my eyes, I am hit with the sudden realisation that should have hit me two weeks ago. I was in the  _ hospital.  _ I’m  _ married.  _ To a  _ woman.  _ Who I am now  _ living  _ with. God, I probably look like a mess. I certainly feel like one. My hair is all tangled, and I don’t remember the last time I washed it, or even brushed it. Catra doesn’t even give me a chance to wake up, before she’s tossing clothes at me and telling me to get dressed. 

“No.” I say quickly, practically leaping away from her as Catra moves in to help me. “No way.”

“Adora-”

“I can do it.” 

“Are you sure?” she asks, and I hate it, I  _ hate  _ the way she says it, almost like she wants me to need her. I just nod my head in response to a smirking Catra and set about my challenge. Now it isn’t about getting dressed, it’s about proving Catra wrong. “Okay, I’m just going to make a quick phone call, alright?” Catra tells me, before disappearing out of the bedroom. 

I just stand there for a moment, staring down at the clothes in my hands; a blue button down shirt and ripped jeans. The shirt is easy enough, as it doesn’t require being lifted over the head, and just slides right over the tank top I’m already wearing. The jeans are a much harder task though. I find myself cursing under my breath as my legs complain at each movement. Still, I do it, and just in time too, as Catra re-enters the room. 

“Wow, you really didn’t need my help.” she comments, half impressed, half amused. In her hands, she holds a pair of converses, which I glare at in dismay. I’m too tired to try fighting that battle, so I give in, allowing Catra to help me. It doesn’t hurt as much as it could’ve, and I’m thankful for that. Holding out her hand, Catra helps me to my feet, before guiding me towards the door. “This won’t take too long, I promise.” she assures me, though I’m not sure how she can possibly know that. She’s not a doctor after all. Or maybe she is, I don’t know. I still haven’t asked what we both do for a living. “Are you alright?” she asks me, noting that I haven’t said anything in a while. I just nod, offering her a small smile. 

As we round the corner, I stare down at my newest enemy. 

_ The stairs.  _

It’s alright, just one foot slowly in front of the other and I’ll be fine. I can do it. It doesn’t hurt quite as much as I thought it would, compared to the pain I felt walking up them at the beginning of the week. In fact, I make it almost halfway down before my legs give out beneath me. With a yelp, I fall forward, catching myself just barely on the banister. In my effort to not fall further, I twist my body, hitting my head on the edge of the step in the process. 

I hear Catra shout my name, followed by a long line of curses in Spanish, and hurried footsteps that follow me down the few steps I fell. It’s a worried shout, but to me, she sounds angry, as she gently pulls me to my feet. 

“I’m sorry,” I tell her, over and over as Catra helps me down the remaining steps. “I’m so sorry.” I let out a hiss of pain as I put weight down on my knee. 

Catra sets me down on the bottom step, kneeling down in front of me to check for bruising. “Why didn’t you ask me to help you?” she asks softly. 

Because I shouldn’t need help to walk down the stairs. I shouldn’t need Catra’s presence to keep me sane, and I certainly shouldn’t need pills shoved down my throat just to function. I don’t say any of that though. Instead, I just swallow, shaking my head a little as Catra brings her eyes back up. 

“Does it hurt?” she asks softly, and I nod. Her eyes are filled with worry, and I feel my cheeks flush with shame. “I can get you some more pills if you like?” I just shake my head. “Next time, ask for help, okay?”

She sounds mad. 

I look down at her with big eyes, scanning her face for any kind of a sign, a small tell that will let me know what she’s thinking. “I’m sorry.” I tell her again, and her hard expression softens immediately. 

“It’s okay.” she assures, helping me to my feet. 

I have to suppress another yelp of pain, in fear of angering Catra further, though I’m sure she wouldn’t be mad, not really. We hobble out to the car in silence, and Catra sets me down in the passenger seat gently. Then, she moves around to the driver’s side and slips into her own seat behind the wheel. 

“Are you mad at me?” My small voice takes Catra by surprise, as I blink up at her with big blue eyes. 

“No.” she breathes. “No, of course not.” 

She looks tired, with her hair hanging more limply than before in its ponytail. Mentally, I make a note to be more grateful for what she’s doing. She must be a busy person, with all the phone calls she’s been getting, but she’s still taking the time to look after me. Well, of course she is. I’m her  _ wife.  _ Still, I can’t help but smile at the realisation. 

_ Catra cares. _

/-/

After a week spent at the hospital, I’ve decided I don’t like being here. The stale smell of...illness fills my lungs, and I choke on it a little. I swing my legs beneath me absentmindedly, heels knocking against the side of the exam table. As I glance up at the clock on the wall, I silently pray for Catra to come back. 

“Alright.” the doctor concludes, looking up from his notes. “And have you experienced any improvements with your memory loss?” I just roll my eyes. The doctor sitting before me is a middle aged man who just makes me...uncomfortable. I’m not sure why though. Maybe that explains why I’m married to a woman, or maybe I’m reading too much into it. A few of the questions have been pretty standard, but now I’ve grown tired of answering them, and found each one more and more ridiculous. I just shake my head, releasing a breath as he turns back to write on his notes. I look up as the door opens, and my face brightens as Catra’s familiar brown ponytail bobs through the door. The doctor looks up too, before turning his attention back to me. “Okay, and is there anything else I should know before I let you go?” 

I shake my head again, eager to escape this miserable place, but Catra speaks up from her position by the door. “Actually, yes.” she says, moving further into the room to stand beside the exam table. “She fell down the stairs just before we left.” she explains. “She hit her head.”

The doctor's face darkens at this, and he goes about checking me for bruising. I just glare up at Catra in annoyance. “I didn’t fall.” I protest quickly. 

“Oh really?” Catra asks, tilting her head and looking down at me with mischievous eyes. “What would you call it, then?”

I hesitate, searching for a response to tell the doctor. “I just...stumbled.” 

“She fell.” Catra tells the doctor, a hint of sincerity in her tone. 

I let out a long sigh. I know what this means; more bedrest. They might as well just sedate me and put me in a coma. To be honest, this feels like a useless trip. Couldn’t we have just had this conversation over the phone? Still, I try my best not to get angry as Catra leads me back out to the car. I stumble a little, and Catra reaches for my hand, clutching it between her fingers. She holds my hand the whole way back to the car, which is nice, and as she opens the door for me, I almost don’t want her to let go. She does though, as I settle into my seat. 

“See? That wasn’t so bad.”

I hesitate. I want to complain, to bitch and moan about how  _ horrible  _ I feel, but I just can’t. The words die in my throat before they reach my lips. Nothing at all has changed. I still have amnesia. I still haven’t remembered anything. It’s still so frustrating. I’m sure it’s frustrating for Catra too. She has to take care of someone who looks and acts like her wife, but doesn’t remember anything about her. I could ask her questions about how we met, what our first date was like, our first kiss, but I want to  _ remember  _ those things instead of being  _ told  _ about them. 

“Do you think I’ll remember soon?” I ask softly, and she glances over as she pulls out of the parking lot. “Do you think I’ll  _ ever _ remember?” 

“You will.” she says softly, like she’s sure. “It just takes time.” 

/-/

Catra runs a bath when we get home, and I didn’t even think to consider  _ why  _ until the tub is full, and she’s calling me into the bathroom. Even when I’m standing there like an idiot, blinking down at Catra who kneels on the floor with one hand plunged into the bubbly water, I still don’t register what’s about to happen. Not until she reaches out to me, saying, “Here, let me help you.” 

She retracts her hands quickly when she sees my reaction though. “Woah, woah, what do you think you’re doing?”

She raises an eyebrow, propping her spare hand onto her hip. “You need to get cleaned up, Adora, and you can’t possibly do it on your own.”

She’s right, of course she’s right. I frown, crossing my arms over my chest. This wouldn’t be the first time Catra would see me...naked. That doesn’t count though, I don’t remember the other times. This feels new and scary. I hesitate. 

_ It’s not the first time. _

“I-I don’t want to.” I stutter through trembling lips. “Can you just...can we wait?” She won’t do anything that would make me uncomfortable, I know that. That’s why she sleeps on the couch, that’s why she rarely touches me, that’s why she hasn’t kissed me. That’s why our kid hasn’t come home yet. 

Catra looks up at me with soft eyes. “Yeah, we can wait. If you’re sure you want to?” She’s already filled the tub, it would be such a waste of water not to use it. Besides, I do  _ really  _ want a bath. 

_ She’s waiting for an answer.  _

“No.” I say after a while. “You can…” I swallow, uncrossing my arms and putting them back down at my sides. I’m sure my cheeks are turning pink, so I try my best not to look at Catra. 

“Are you sure?” I nod slowly, closing my eyes as Catra stands and moves slowly towards me. “Hold still.” 

I feel her hands fiddle with the buttons on the front of my shirt, before they move up to tug the fabric off my shoulders gently. It falls to the floor a moment later, as I shiver from the cold air greeting my exposed skin. Catra doesn’t allow her eyes to roam over my bare skin as she undresses me, the same way she has probably done a million times before. Although, I imagine those times would include more urgency, more  _ touching.  _ This is different though. This is new. I want to tell her to stop, that I’ve changed my mind, but I don’t trust my voice. I feel the heat return to my face, as Catra looks up at me. 

“You’re looking a little red.” she teases softly, and I respond with a half-assed glare. This is embarrassing enough, she doesn’t have to make it worse. Still, she’s making an effort not to look anywhere I wouldn’t want her to, which is everywhere. She doesn’t let her fingers linger anywhere for longer than she has to. “Arms up.” she instructs, and I obey, lifting my aching arms up as high as I can, as Catra pulls off my tank top. 

Next, she bends down, tugging on the waistband of my jeans. I just stare at the wall though, not wanting the image of Catra on her knees before me to be burned into my memory. The heat from my cheeks spreads to my entire body, as I feel soft fingers brush past my thigh, tugging at my jeans gently. 

“There,” Catra declares, standing up with a soft smile. “You ready?” she asks, and I nod quickly as I take her hand. She helps me into the bathtub, the water swirling around me as I sink into its warmth. It’s nice, and I’m grateful that Catra did this for me. “Is it hot enough?” she asks, and I nod. 

“Catra?” She hums, her hands moving through my hair to rinse it. I can tell she’s enjoying this, being able to touch me a little bit more. Maybe she’s missed me. “Is this weird?” 

She looks up at the question, surprised, but then her face softens. “No,” she tells me softly. “We’ve done this before.” I wrinkle my nose at that. Sure, it sounds romantic, but also kind of gross. “Do you think it’s weird?” she asks, pouring water over my hair. 

I just shake my head. “No. I kind of like it.” 

She smiles. “Me too.” We’re quiet for a moment, just the sound of the water sloshing about, and  Catra’s gentle humming. For a moment, I think I recognise the tune, but then her phone rings loudly from downstairs, and she stops. “That’s probably my mom.” she says softly, abandoning my hair to dry her hands on a towel. “I’ll be right back.” she promises, before slipping out of the door. 

/-/

Glimmer and Bow are married.

Glimmer and Bow are  _ married.  _

I know this, because Glimmer is now sitting beside me on the sofa showing me pictures from their wedding. It looks like a beautiful ceremony, and a lot bigger than mine. In one, Glimmer is standing beneath a cherry tree, petals falling all around her. The light from the setting sun shines through the branches, casting long, dark shadows across the grass. I almost don't believe her, but here's the evidence, clear as day. The three of us have been friends, _best_ friends, for forever. How did I not see this coming?

“The seating arrangement was the hardest part.” Glimmer tells me, as I nod along. “You know, keeping up with the whole who-likes-who nonsense.” she sighs a little, as if reliving the whole thing. The next photo she shows me is gorgeous. Rows of matching white chairs are connected with strings of fairy lights that shine brightly as the sun begins to fade away. Despite the wedding being outside, the weather seems to be glorious, and the ground certainly doesn’t look wet. “The flowers were the wrong shade of blue, so they didn’t match the bridesmaid dresses, see?” Glimmer points to where I’m standing amongst a small group of other girls, wearing a blue turtle-neck dress. “And I ordered fake flowers, so I could keep them for sentimental value, but they ended up delivering real ones. Most of them died, which was sad, but Bow’s dads pressed the others so we could put them in our scrapbook.” she gasps loudly, as if remembering something, sitting forward in her seat. “Oh my gosh, I  _ have  _ to show you the scrapbook!”

As much as I love hearing about my best friend’s wedding, there’s only so much I can take. It’s getting late, and more than anything I just want to sit and watch a movie.  _ Quietly. _ I guess it’s not Glimmer’s fault that it hurts me so much to think about this stuff. Surely I should remember this. Hell, I don’t even remember my own wedding. I glance up at Catra with a pleading look, begging her to make Glimmer  _ stop talking.  _ She’s standing at the edge of the room, keeping her distance, which I find odd. I remember what Glimmer said about them having ‘ups and downs’, but I never thought these two  _ disliked  _ each other.

Catra just smirks back at me for a moment, silently laughing as I pull a face at her. Then, she speaks up. “This is great, Sparkles, but why don’t you give her a break?” Glimmer looks up from her phone, shooting daggers at Catra. “It’s late. Do you really expect this to help her remember?” 

“Thanks for your  _ opinion,  _ Catra.” she rolls her eyes sarcastically. “If Adora wants to stop, she can tell me.” 

They both turn to look at me expectantly, and I feel my cheeks heat up. Damn, way to put me on the spot. “Actually, Glimmer, I am pretty tired.” I say softly, offering her an apologetic smile as her proud demeanour deflates. She nods her head slowly, glaring at Catra, who sticks out her tongue, as if to say ‘I-told-you-so.’

“Well, that’s okay.” Glimmer says, standing up. “I’ll get out of your hair.” She isn’t upset, I know, but I still feel bad. We hug one last time before she exits out of the front door, that Catra holds open for her. When she’s gone, I release a breath I didn’t even know I had been holding, flopping down into the cushions on the sofa. 

“Rough night?”

I look up to see Catra, standing awkwardly at the edge of the room with her hands in her pockets. “You could say that.” I tell her, noting the way she looks like a guest in her own house. “Do you two not get on?” I ask her, reliving the way Glimmer addressed her a moment ago. 

Catra just shrugs, sitting down in the chair opposite me. “I don’t think she trusts me much.” she says simply, and I want to ask more, but she’s wearing a look on her face that says she desperately doesn’t want to talk about it. Instead, she changes the subject. “Have you eaten today?” she asks, and I shake my head. 

“I’m not hungry.” I tell her, and she frowns. There’s something about the way she’s looking at me that tells me this isn’t the first time she’s heard me say those words. Still, she just nods as we fall into silence. I have so many questions I want to ask, but honestly I don’t know where to start. I’m not even sure Catra would know the answers to most of them. 

“Hey, Catra?” 

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” I say softly. “For taking care of me.” 

She smiles, looking up at me with bright eyes. “Always.” 


	4. Love in a Time of Desperation

It’s been a little over a month now since the accident, since the last 9 years got knocked out of my head. The dreams I’ve been getting have helped in a way, but I’m not sure if they’re actually memories, or figments of my imagination. I want to ask Catra, but I’m scared of getting it wrong. I’m getting better though. I can get dressed on my own, and I even took a shower by myself the other day. Everything is still a little achy sometimes, but I’m doing miles better, and my headaches have started to go away too. 

It’s a quiet day, one of the nice kinds. Late afternoon melts into early evening, and the sun is tucked just behind the big grey clouds that decorate the skyline. The rain is a slow and soft drizzle against the roof, which I try to drown out by the hum of the TV. I’m not paying much attention to the news report, though. Instead my eyes keep drifting up to Catra. She’s sitting at the kitchen table, sifting through a stack of papers. Her eyes are cast down, reading each word carefully, and she has a concentrated look on her face. She wears a black turtle neck jumper that looks a little bit too good on her. It looks soft and warm, and I kind of want to steal it from her. I won’t though. Obviously. Maybe she wouldn’t mind though. I’m sure it probably looks just as good off--

_ Stop it, that’s weird. _

Is it weird though? We’re married, surely I’m allowed to think about her like this. 

_ Nope, still weird.  _

She’s practically a stranger, of course it’s weird. I should stop staring. She’s going to notice and then it will be awkward. 

_ Would it be awkward though? _

Yes. Yes it would. I’d have to come up with some excuse, like that I wanted to ask for some water, and then she’d smirk at me in a way that makes my stomach flip because she knows that’s not really why I was staring. Internally, I groan, flopping backwards into the cushions. She’s so pretty, it’s not fair. She looks tired and focussed, and maybe even a little stressed. What does she do for a living again? Oh right, I still haven’t asked. I think it’s something in the legal department. Despite my first impression of her character, that seems right for her. She’s probably a lawyer. That would explain the size of the house and the ring on my finger. She probably looks good in a suit--

_ Stop. _

Still, she looks so smart, so professional, despite her slightly unkempt manner. Her hair now falls in ringlets around her shoulders and her studied expression grows. Her focussed look changes from mild confusion to ‘oh no’ in a matter of seconds, and before I know it, she’s standing. I look away quickly, so she won’t catch me staring like a creep, focussing my eyes on the TV screen just in time, before she glances up. 

“Adora?” 

I tilt my head, as if I haven’t been watching her for the last five minutes, and feign the perfect look of innocence as she walks over. “Hmm?” 

“I have to go take care of something.” she tells me, and I frown, because that means she’s leaving and I really don’t want her to. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay?” 

I’m a little surprised by her desperation. “Yeah, okay.” I say, my voice a lot sadder than I intended. I just look up at her with wide eyes and a soft expression. 

Catra smiles gratefully. “It shouldn’t take too long.” 

“That’s okay, I’ll just be here.” I say, trying to smile a very small smile. 

“You’re the best.” she smiles back, as she begins to pull her jacket on. But then she does something I’m not expecting. She leans down and presses the softest of kisses on my cheek, a soft ‘Te quiero.’ leaving her lips. Then, she’s gone, and I’m left there blushing like an idiot. 

_ What. Was. That.  _

Okay, just breathe, no need to panic. She probably didn’t even think about it. She probably just forgot for a second that I have no recollection of our married life. It was a small kiss, quick with barely any contact, and yet my face feels like it’s on fire. Like someone doused it in gasoline and lit a match. I need to calm down. It’s not a big deal. Lots of people kiss their wives. Only, this wife doesn’t remember her at all. God, this is confusing. My stomach churns uncomfortably, and my heart feels so much lighter than usual. 

I think I have a crush on my wife. 

Does that even make sense? 

I shake my head firmly, trying not to think about it. Standing up quickly, I try to erase her from my mind, instead more interested in visiting the one place in this house that I’m yet to see; Finn’s room. I’m sure Catra wouldn’t mind showing me, but I’ve always been too scared to ask. Still, now that she’s out of the house, I might just have my perfect opportunity. I’m at the top of the stairs before I know it, my curiosity erasing my aching pain as my eyes fall on the only door I’m yet to open. A sign hangs on it, blue and wonky, and in scribbled writing, it clearly displays the name  _ Finn. _

I smile, turning the handle and pushing open the door. The room is bigger than I thought it would be, and carries a medieval theme. Heroes, princesses, villains, and the occasional unicorn, it’s all here. Two wooden swords lean up against one wall, and carved into each of the handles are  _ Mamá  _ and  _ Finn. _ I wonder if I have one somewhere. Beside the swords, a gorgeous acoustic guitar sits, waiting to be used. For a moment, I think about playing it, but I don’t know how, so I just brush my fingers past it. The bed lies up against the window, decorated with grey bedding and littered with books. Clearly this kid likes to read. I pick one up, a comic book this time, turning it over in my hands as I read the title.  _ She-ra, Princess of Power. _ With a knowing smile, I put it back down again, lowering myself onto the edge of the bed. A bookshelf stands tall against the far wall, and honestly I’m surprised Finn hasn’t drowned in books yet. On the top shelf sits a glass frame, gleaming from the light that the window provides. Curious now, I stand, making my way over to it. 

When I think of Finn, I imagine fluffy brown hair and heterochromic eyes. I’m wrong though. In this photo, they’re adorable. They have blonde curls, like me, pretty blue eyes and a cute button nose. Honestly, they look like a perfect blend of both of us, though I’m not sure if that’s even possible. Did we adopt? Catra never told me- but to be fair, I never asked. They look young here though, so much younger than four. My guess is that they’re not even a year old yet, though I could be wrong. I’m in the photo too. It looks like we’re at the beach, with golden sand stretched out beneath us, and sand dunes leading up to where a beaten truck sits. We’re sitting on a deck chair, with Finn wrapped up in a towel and snuggled into my lap. They look wet, so I assume they just finished swimming in the sea. They look happy though- we both do. We’re smiling, as I press a kiss to Finn’s forehead. At first, I assume Catra took this photo, but then I notice her, standing beside the truck atop the sand dunes. She looks happy too, though in a more low-key way. 

“I thought I might find you in here.”

I jump, turning quickly as a blush forms on my face to see Catra leaning against the door frame with a smirk across her face. Why, oh why does she have to be so smug and _pretty_? I just offer her a small smile, turning my attention back to the photo in my hands. I want to ask her. Should I ask her? Yeah, I should. 

“Who took this photo?” 

She frowns for a moment, before peering over my shoulder. Opening her mouth to say something, she hesitates, giving me a funny look, before eventually confessing. “Your mom.”

My  _ mother? _

My mother came to the beach with us? With my  _ wife?  _ And my kid? Does that mean she was okay with… I don’t want to say it. I don’t even want to think it. It’s so horrible, but it’s just true. I never thought my mom would accept that I’m gay. Especially not for someone like Catra.

I look up, meeting Catra’s eyes. She looks sad, and I don’t want her to be. “Did she like you?” I ask softly, holding her gaze. 

Her eyes widen, surprised by my question, but then she nods her head. “I think she was the only one from your side of the family who did.” I want to ask her what that means, but then I think back to Glimmer. Catra just sighs a little, taking the frame from my hands and placing it back on the shelf. “You know you can ask me things, right?” she questions softly, as I keep my eyes on her. She isn’t looking at me anymore. “I’ll try to answer as much as I can.” 

I want to nod and let it rest, but I can’t. There’s so much I want to know, I just have no idea how to start. I begin the only way I can think to- with the question I’ve been wondering for weeks. “What do you do for a living?” I ask, and she smiles. 

“I’m a lawyer.” she says, proudly. I was right. “I work in criminal law.” 

I just nod, pretending I know what that means. She looks a little disappointed when I turn away from her, but I don’t go far, I just perch on the end of the bed. “What do I do?” I ask, almost scared for the answer. 

“You used to be a business lawyer for your father’s company.” she tells me, but doesn’t say anything more. 

“Used to?” 

She nods, hesitantly. “You quit.” she says simply. 

_ What? _

Why on earth would I do that? She must notice the confusion on my face, because she sits down beside me with a low sigh. “Your father was very sick.” she explains. “He got better for a little while, and then he just kept getting worse. We didn’t think he would make it, so he handed over the company to you.” My eyes widen at that. I guess I knew it would happen someday, but it wasn’t supposed to happen so soon. Then again, I’m not 18 anymore, I’m 26. I open my mouth to say something, but Catra isn’t done. “You were CEO for about a year, and it kept you pretty busy.” she says, with a humorless laugh that tells me it wasn’t as glorious as I imagine. “Then, one day, he got better, just like that, and you were just a business lawyer again.” That sounds terrible, but surely not enough to make me quit. “You worked so hard for so long, and then that man just took it all away.” Is she angry? She looks angry. Her hands ball into fists, and she isn’t looking at me. “The next summer, I got in with a firm in San Diego, and we never looked back.” 

I just let her breathe for a minute, as she looks around the room. With gentle fingers, she strums the strings of the guitar, releasing a quiet hum of music into the room. Silently, I wonder if she’s the one who can play it. Finn’s too young, and I certainly can’t, so I guess she must be. The sound seems to calm her down, as she looks back at me with softer eyes. I try to smile, but it comes out all wonky and wrong. “I gave up my job to go with you?” I ask, my voice small. If she had told me this at the beginning of the month, I wouldn’t have believed her, but now I can understand why. She’s just staring at me, so intensely, and I blush a little under the pressure. “What do I do now?” 

“You’re a freelance writer.” she tells me, standing up. She appears to be done with this conversation, but I’m not, so I trail after her out of the room. 

“I write books?” She nods, turning towards the stairs. “Oh.” I never thought I’d be a writer. An artist, maybe, but not a writer. I’m not disappointed, just surprised. “Are they any good?” I ask hopefully as I follow Catra into the kitchen.

She smiles, which is a good sign. “Yeah, you’re pretty good.” she hesitates for a moment, before adding. “You write about us.” With a tilt of my head, I look up, unsure what she means by that. “Your last project was a comic that sold pretty well.” she explains with a smile. “God knows where you got the storyline from, but you named all of the characters after your friends.” 

I can’t help but laugh at that; it sounds like something I would do. “What’s it called?” I ask.

“She-ra,” she tells me with a smile, “Princess of Power.” 

That must be why I recognised it on Finn’s bed. Maybe a part of me remembers it. Maybe I’m starting to remember. My smile is bigger than Catra expects it to be, and I realise she hasn’t followed my train of thought. I don’t explain though, I’m not sure I want to yet. I’ll just keep this little victory to myself, for now, just until I can figure out what it means. Instead, I change the subject. “How did we meet?”

“School.” she says simply, as she pulls two mugs from the top cupboard. I nod along, slipping into a chair at the kitchen table. “We had a class together in college.” she tells me, and that feels familiar somehow. “Professor Hordak always used to get mad at us for talking too much, but he forgave us when we came out top of his class at the end of the year.” I smile gently at the thought, but the smile fades when I can’t remember his face. “You were always a great student, and because of you, I became one too.” she tells me. “You made me want to go to school, to study hard. You made me want to be good enough.” I sound pretty amazing. It’s a shame I don’t remember who I am. Was. Whatever. “You helped me through a lot back in college, mostly without even knowing it.” she says with a small smile. “Like the late nights we used to spend…” she trails off abruptly, and her face changes, like she’s realised something. I’m not far behind her, as I feel the mood shift and a sense of dread settle in my stomach. She remembers. She gets to remember things like that. She gets to look back and laugh while I can only hope to remember one day. With a frown, I look down at my hands. “Adora.” she says softly, trying to get me to look at her. I don’t. “No quise lastimarte.” I don’t know what that means, but her voice is nice to hear anyway. “Hey--” 

“It’s getting late.” I say quickly, standing up. “I’m going to bed.” I turn away before she can stop me, and I don’t look back, as I head up the stairs. 

I just want to remember something, anything. The desperation bubbles in my chest, it threatens to drown me, and I press a pillow against my face as I try to breathe. It isn’t fair that she gets to remember all of the good times, and the bad times. All the dates, all the fights, all the I love yous. The first time we kissed, our engagement, our wedding. I just want to know. I want it all to come back, to come flooding back into my head. I want Catra to kiss me and make this all go away. I want to wake up tomorrow and know her, to know our kid, to not have to wonder what her skin feels like on mine, or her lips. 

“Adora.” Catra says softly, entering the bedroom. “Estás bien, mi amor?” Does she know that I don’t know what she’s saying? I don’t speak Spanish. Maybe I used to before… Now I’ll never know. I just give her a hard shake of my head, and look away. “It’ll come back.” I swallow, and don’t say anything else as she approaches slowly. There’s something about her face, her expression, that I can’t put my finger on. “Can I...help you?” she asks hopefully. “I don’t know exactly what you’re feeling right now, but--”

“Thank you.” I smile a small smile, as real as I can fake it, and wipe my eyes. Then, I reach out my hand to Catra, and she takes it, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside me. She tucks a loose strand of blonde behind my ear, her fingers lingering for just a moment before she pulls her hand away. I wish that she hadn’t. 

“You’ll remember.” she says softly, and I’m not sure which one of us she’s trying to convince.

“You don’t know that.” 

“No, but I can hope.” We’ve never talked about what will happen if it doesn’t come back, if this is permanent. She’ll have to reintroduce me to everyone in our life, including my own kid. “I have to tell you something.” She says that more seriously, and I sit up a little. “Finn is coming home tomorrow.”

_ What? _

No, I’m not ready for that. What if they’re angry? What if they hate me? Oh God, I’m going to make my own kid hate me. What am I supposed to--

“It’s okay.” Catra says quickly, sensing my oncoming panic. “If it’s too much…” She doesn’t even know what she’ll do if it ends up being too much. “They’re a smart kid, they’ll understand.” A smart kid, but still a kid. Just a child who thinks they’re coming home to their mother, but instead they’re coming home to a woman who looks like her but isn’t. 

Oh God, this will be a mess. 

/-/

_ “I knew it!”  _

_ A chair flies to the ground in anger, as I take deep shaking breaths, my shoulders rising and falling in time. Catra’s face is red and raw with emotion, her lips twisted into a guilty frown as she blinks back at me helplessly. Despite the stern defiance she portrays, clear as day, she still looks two seconds away from crying.  _

_ I don’t think she’s ever seen me this way. Never this angry, never directed at her. Catra swallows the defence that tries to claw its way up her throat, instead suffering in silence as she watches my emotions uncurl in front of her. I just keep repeating those words “I knew it!” over and over, as if forcing them to make some kind of sense. The truth is, I didn’t know it. I didn’t see this coming at all. I really thought it was finally over. _

_ “You lied to me!” I seethe, my eyes faltering for a long moment as something other than anger passes through me. Just long enough for Catra to see the pain hidden beneath them.  _

_ “No, I didn’t!” Catra snaps, finally protesting her innocence. “I really thought I could go clean.” She never meant for this to happen, and she certainly never meant for me to get hurt.  _

_ Hot tears burn at my eyes, but I blink them away, refusing to give Catra the satisfaction of seeing me cry. “I can’t believe I ever trusted you.” my voice breaks, no longer a shout, but a pained whisper that hurts Catra just as much to hear. All at once, the tension is a ten foot wall between us, and the room feels so much colder than before. _

_ “It’s not that bad, Adora.” Catra whispers softly, venturing a timid step towards me, as her blue eyes dull.  _

_ “Stop lying to me!” I shout in return, hands balling into fists at my side. “After everything, don’t stand there and lie to my face.” Catra just watches with wide eyes, scared to move at all, especially towards me. “I know it’s been hard for you to quit.” I choke out, my emotion caught in my throat. “I just never thought that...God-” _

_ Catra closes her eyes tightly, bracing herself for the bullets of hurtful words that will surely follow. She doesn’t seem to mind though. Maybe she thinks she deserves it. Instead, all she feels is the weight of my body as I crumble to the floor, breaking down into heartful weeping. It’s as though I’m mourning the love we share, like it died, and here is its funeral. All Catra can do is watch in horror as my entire body is taken over with waves of sobs, shaking me roughly. The sounds of pure agony escaping my lips are surely sounds she will not soon forget.  _

_ “Adora.” she calls out softly, in a breathless rush, as she falls to her knees beside me. Cautiously, she reaches out a hand to me, inching closer as though I might lash out again. “I’m so sorry, Adora.” her voice breaks but still, in this moment she doesn’t cry. Instead, she takes my cheeks in her hands, rubbing gentle circles into my tear stained skin. “I’m so sorry.” As I begin to breathe somewhat normally again, Catra wipes away lingering tears from my eyes. Without thinking, she leans forward, pressing her lips gently against my forehead. I just let her, the breath hitching audibly in my throat. _

_ We stay like this for a long time, just me lying, hollow and lifeless, beneath Catra’s hands. After what seems like forever, I speak up, my voice soft and broken. “Does this mean you don’t love me anymore?” _

_ “Of course I do.” Catra whispers, her voice wavering. I can tell she wants to break, just like I did. She wants to give up to her feelings and burst into tears. She doesn’t though- one of us has to be strong. “I love you so much.” she presses her forehead against mine, as if trying to share the pain, as I listen to the sound of our hearts beating in time with one another. We fit together perfectly, and my heart breaks to know it’s all messed up. _

_ “Then why did you do it?” Catra’s hesitation hangs in the air like a death sentence, and I have to swallow back another wave of tears. Instead of crying, I compose myself a little, pulling myself away from Catra’s embrace. “You said you’d go clean.” _

_ Catra blinks back, wide eyed, as I rise to my feet, and I now stand over her, as she now lies sprawled on the floor. “It’s not a big deal, Adora.” she insists again, even firmer as her frustration grows. “You’re being ridiculous.” Rising to her feet, she stands level with me, staring me down as if this is some kind of game, and she’s winning. “It’s just a small set back, okay?” _

_ Defeated, I let out a soft sigh, willing the tears to stop falling. “Fine.” Catra watches, as I carry myself across the room. “I believe you.” I tell her, with so much conviction that I almost believe it to be true. My hand grips around the handle as I reach the front door of our apartment, pulling it open.  _

_ “Where are you going?” Catra calls after me. Worry fills her voice, but it’s still edged with anger. _

_ I hesitate at the door, but don’t turn back. “I don’t know.” Reaching an arm up, I wipe my wet face with the back of my sleeve. It’s useless though, as more tears just keep falling. “I just can’t be with you right now.” _

_ With that, I continue out of the door, letting it slam closed behind me. Catra doesn’t follow, she just watches me leave, and I can feel the agony of my heart breaking inside my chest, and the tears that sting at my eyes. This time, I just let them fall. It’s true, I don’t know where I’m going, and as my feet lead me down into my car, I feel even more clueless. As I pull out of the parking space, I just let the winding roads carry me anywhere but home. I hate that I’m running away, but I have to be as far away from Catra as I possibly can right now. _

_ In the end, I wind up in my office parking lot, abandoned for the evening. Besides a few stray cars, I’m entirely alone, with only the sound of the rain against the windshield for company. After letting the wipers push away the rain and keeping the heat running for a moment, I kill the engine, tossing my keys onto the passenger seat. My mind races thinking of the afternoon’s events. This isn’t the way I thought things would turn out. I can’t spend the rest of my life waiting up for Catra to come home, and worrying about what she’s doing.  _

_ When the first few tears slip down my cheeks, I try to brush them away, but soon enough I give up and just let them keep on coming. I cry in a way that leaves me breathless, and with a stomach ache and a pained feeling deep in my chest. She was doing so good. I really thought she might be okay, but now-- _

_ The sound of my phone ringing from the passenger seat drags my attention away from my own head, and into the present. It’s late now, very late. Who could possibly be calling me? My fingers are sore from their grip on the steering wheel, so I shake them a little to regain feeling, before reaching for my phone. Peering at the caller ID, a frown finds my face.  _

_ Unknown number. _

_ The frown never leaving my face, I press to answer the call, holding the phone to my ear. “Hello?” my voice is small and hoarse, but still there. _

_ The voice that greets my ears is not one I recognise. “Hi, I’m calling from Brightmoon Hospital.” she tells me and my heart sinks in my chest. “Is Adora Grayskull there?” _

_ My grip on my phone is so tight, that I’m sure my knuckles are turning white. “Speaking.” _

_ “Hi, Ms Grayskull. It says here that we have you down as an emergency contact for a ‘Miss Catra Horde’. Is that correct?” _

_ Oh God. _

_ Taking a deep breath, I try to keep composed, as my chest tightens uncomfortably.  _

_ “Yes.” I manage to choke out. My voice is just a whisper, as I try my best not to cry. I can’t, I have to keep a level head. Shaking the bad thoughts from my mind, I try to focus on the phone call. _

_ “Okay Ms Grayskull, you need to come down to the hospital as soon as you can. When will that be?” _

_ “What happened?” I ask, ignoring her question altogether. I’m not sure why, since I already know the answer. Dread seeps into my stomach like bile, and I want to throw up.  _

_ “It says here, she was taken in for an overdose.” the woman on the phone tells me, her tone reeking of sympathy. “When should I tell the doctor to expect you, Ms Grayskull?” _

_ “Now.” I hear my own voice say into the phone. “I’ll be right there.” I hang up before I can listen to a reply, so wrapped up in my own head. I should have known this would happen. I never should have left her alone. I don’t blame myself for this. I don’t hate myself for falling in love with a disaster dressed like a girl, but I do hate myself for falling in love with feeling loved. I’m not strong enough to do this anymore.  _

/-/


	5. A Place Where Someone Loves You

  
  


I’m half asleep when I hear the familiar thud of Catra’s sneakers on the hardwood steps, followed by the fall of lighter feet that I don’t recognise. Finn must be home. I don’t even have time to panic, as the door creaks open, just a crack, before the sound stops abruptly. 

“See?” Catra’s voice is barely above a whisper. “She’s fine.” 

“Can we wake her up?” the little voice follows. It’s less of a whisper, more of a plea. 

“No, let her sleep.” Catra says softly. “Remember what I told you?” The door creaks again, an indication that they are leaving. “She’s going to be a little different when she wakes up.” Their voices fade down the hall, and when I hear their feet on the stairs again, I open my eyes. 

Finn is here. Right now. In my house. And I slept through it. Catra must have found time to tell them about our situation. Maybe that’s why she didn’t wake me up sooner. Rubbing my eyes, I sit up, waiting a little too long at the edge of the bed, before standing. I don’t want to go downstairs, but somehow I force myself to, trying to swallow back the dread that claws its way up my throat. I can hear their voices in the kitchen, and the knot in my stomach tightens. This is it. I can’t move though, not yet, so instead I just stand in the living room, watching from afar. 

“Did you have a good time with your Abuela?” Catra asks as she fishes a pan out of the cupboard. 

“Yeh.” 

“I know you wanted to come home sooner, I’m sorry buddy.” 

“S’okay.” There’s a short pause before they ask, “Can we put chocolate in them?” 

_ “Chocolate?”  _ Catra laughs, and it makes me smile, gathering the confidence to peek my head out and steal a glance. “For breakfast?” 

“Pleaseee?” They ask angelically, standing up on their tiptoes. “Only a little?” 

“Alright.” she gives in, ruffling their fluff of blonde hair. “But don’t tell your mother.” 

It’s quiet for a while, and I sneak another glance around the archway. Catra stands by the stove, batting Finn’s hand away while they try to steal a handful of chocolate chips. In the end, she takes a few for herself, and they share a giggle. Finn is sat atop the counter, swinging their legs back and forth, their shoes thudding against the side of the cupboards. It’s a great sight to see. I didn’t think anything could make Catra more attractive, but seeing her with Finn twists something deep inside of me. I try not to think about that though as I watch from my hiding spot. 

“Do you think she’s awake now?” 

“I don’t know, maybe.” Catra says softly, pouring some batter into the pan. As she sets the bowl down again, her eyes flick up and meet mine. I give her a panicked shake of my head, starting to feel sick all over again, and she looks away. “She’ll come find us when she’s ready.” 

“When she smells the pancakes.” 

I can tell Catra wants to laugh along, but she doesn’t. Instead, she just smiles a tight smile and continues cooking. I know I can’t hide behind the wall forever, but oh God, I want to. I have to come out eventually. What’s the worst that could happen? They’re my kid. Time to take a leap of faith. I round the corner slowly, trying not to make too much noise as I enter the kitchen. 

“Hi.” I say softly, after standing there in silence for a little too long. 

“Mommy!” it’s an excited shout, a squeal of joy, as Finn jumps from the counter. They stop short before they reach me though, turning back to look at Catra, and then returning their eyes to me, almost like they’re unsure of something. “Can I give you a hug?” The question is sweet, but also heart breaking. I just nod, crouching down, as they wrap their arms around my neck, careful not to squeeze too hard. 

“Finn, be careful.” Catra calls out. 

“No, it’s okay.” I smile, pulling away. I just want to look at them for a moment. They really are the perfect blend of both of us. Now would be a great time for my memories to all come flooding back into my brain. I want to remember everything.  _ Everything.  _ But, of course, I don’t. Maybe I stare for too long, but they don’t seem to mind. They just smile. 

“Do you wanna help us?” they ask, not waiting for an answer before they’re running back into the kitchen and hopping back up onto the side. I follow cautiously, afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing, but overall this has gone pretty well. 

“Hey,” Catra whispers as I join her in the kitchen. She’s smiling, but her eyes are asking if I’m okay. I just smile back. 

/-/

I don’t find myself outside very often, so it’s a surprise that Finn manages to drag me out here for most of the afternoon. I kicked a ball around with them for a while, but now we’re sitting on the wooden swing set, their legs dangling in the air, and mine flat on the floor. The ground is still a little wet from rain, but I don’t mind much. The sun is starting to set now, and I’m sure Catra won’t let us stay out for much longer. 

“Mamá said you hit your head really hard.” Finn says, not really a question, but they don't phrase it as a statement, so I just nod. “Does it hurt?” 

“It did.” I answer truthfully. “But not so much anymore.” I still get headaches, and I’m a little achy, but mostly okay. The thing that’s bothering me the most is my memory. Why won’t it just come back already? Finn doesn’t want to talk about the accident anymore, so they start telling me about their teachers instead. I nod, asking questions every now and then as my mind wanders. Drumming my fingers against the wooden frame of the swingset, something new gets my attention. This doesn’t look like a store-bought set. It looks handmade. Did Catra build this? I’ll have to ask her later. Both of our heads snap up as the back door slides open, and Catra steps out onto the deck. She tells Finn to go wash up for dinner, and they listen, scampering off into the house. 

“Are you alright?” she asks softly, once they’re out of earshot. “You don’t have to answer all their questions, you know.”

“It’s okay.” I shrug, standing up shakily from the swing. “I’m okay.” 

“Are you sure?”

“What are you going to do if I’m not, Catra?” I ask, a little too sharply. “Lock them in a closet?” 

“Adora--”

“Lock  _ me  _ in a closet?” I gasp in feigned surprise, as a million awesome gay-jokes pop into my head. “Is that how we solve conflicts?” I’m mostly joking. I think. Though I would love to know what she would do. I have to be okay, there is no other option. Catra can’t send Finn back to her mother’s house, because they would never go back now. Not without throwing a tantrum. Probably. That’s how kids work right? I sigh, running a hand through my hair.

Catra still looks concerned, but her expression has softened a little bit. “I don’t know.” she says softly. “Just tell me if it’s too much, okay?” I just nod with a small smile. “Now come on, let’s go inside. It’s freezing out here.”

“Hey, Catra?” I call out as she turns away, and she glances back with a quirk of her brow. “Where did we get this?” I ask, and she shrugs. 

“Uh,” she rubs the back of her neck, blushing a little as I watch her intently. “I made it…” 

“You built this?” I ask, following her back into the house. 

“Mhm.” For some reason, she looks like she’d rather die than discuss it. I’m not sure why she doesn’t want to talk about this, the fact that she built this for her kid. Is there anything she can’t do? She cooks, she cleans, she takes such good care of me, she’s obviously the provider. I really struck gold, didn’t I? I don’t deserve her. I find that she builds things for a hobby very interesting for some reason, and I want to know more. Did she build anything else? The sudden urge to check every piece of furniture we own washes over me. It’s honestly so sweet, something she can teach to Finn when they’re old enough. Not all mothers put that much effort into their kids, if mine is anything to go off. It’s also kinda hot, but I’m not going to tell her that. “We can talk about it later.” she says with a smile, pushing me gently towards the dining table.

That talk never comes though, because after dinner, Finn makes us all watch a movie together. I wouldn’t mind, except that Finn sits me down right next to Catra, as they take a seat on the floor. She’s really close to me, I can feel her breathing in and out. I’m scared to look at her, but also scared that it looks like I don’t want to look at her, because I do, I just don’t want her to catch me looking. Ugh. 

It’s been a long day, and I feel my eyelids begin to droop. Before I can fall asleep though, Catra is nudging my arm. “Hey, wake up, dummy.” she whispers, as I jolt back to life. I throw her a questioning look, which she responds to by pointing a finger towards Finn. They’re lying in a ball on the floor, their legs tucked underneath themself as their eyelids flutter closed. “Finn.” Catra says softly, as she turns off the TV. “Finnnn…” she tugs on the hem of their shirt, and Finn groans softly, the same way I do. I smile down at them, and then back up at Catra.

Once they’re awake, they don’t let go of my hand the whole way up the stairs, until we’re in their bedroom. Now that it’s dark, I notice the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling. Maybe if I stare at them for a while, something will come back. Anything. I just want to remember. I don’t though. All I feel is a strange sense of familiarity churning in my stomach. Everything else is blank. Catra stands in the doorway, reminding both of us that it’s past Finn’s bedtime. Of course, we can’t argue with her, so I begin to tuck Finn into bed as Catra slips back out into the hallway. 

As they’re falling asleep, they mutter something. A question that threatens to tip me over the edge. “Do you remember me yet?” 

“Not yet.” I whisper back, trying to hide the hurt from my voice. 

“Soon?”

“I hope so.” I say softly, tucking the blanket around them. I just watch for a moment longer, their fluffy blonde hair, cute little button nose, and eyes that would be a beautiful blue if they weren’t now closed. They’re perfect. They’re  _ perfect.  _

I didn’t know it was possible to love something this much. 

I try to be quiet about shutting the door and making my way down the stairs, but of course, Catra hears me. “Are they asleep?” she asks, without looking up from her book, and I just swallow the lump in my throat. I don’t want to answer her, I can’t. She says it like it’s normal for me to be here, putting our kid to bed, but it’s not. I don’t have a kid. I don’t have a wife. This is crazy. Surely I must be dreaming. So why haven’t I woken up yet? I can hardly breathe as I fidget with my wedding ring. Maybe my silence is what makes Catra look up, and her expression changes. “Adora?” she sits up straight as I make a break for the front door, and then she’s wedging a bookmark in her book. I need air. I can’t breathe. There’s a weight on my chest, so heavy that I’m choking. This isn’t fair, it isn’t. “Adora.” Catra is out on the porch with me after I broke out through the door. She has a blanket. She has warmth, comfort.

Still, my eyes fill with tears and my chest tightens. “They’re perfect.” I tell her, like she doesn’t know that already. Like she isn’t their mother. Like she didn’t raise them. They’re so sweet and good and I don’t even remember them. “I want to remember…” I can’t breathe. I can’t. She tries to reach for me, but I push her away, a little harder than I intended. 

“Adora--”

“It’s not fair!”

“I know.”

“I hate this!” I’m pacing now, pulling at my hair, gasping to try and draw enough air into my lungs to breathe. Catra just looks...guilty. I still can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, and the world is caving in. 

“Adora, please--”

“It’s not fair!” I scream this time, and that’s enough to get Catra to move. She pulls me in without warning, drawing me into her chest. A hand finds my hair, tangling through each strand of blonde as she whispers soothing words that I don’t listen to. I can’t listen. I just squeeze my eyes shut and let her hold me while I cry, until I’m shivering from the cold. 

“I’m so sorry.” I hear her say, once the world has stopped spinning, and if I wasn’t so caught up in trying to breathe, I would ask her what she means by that. 

/-/ 

_ As I burst through the doors of the club, I’m washed over by a wave of relief. Not only is the wall of music that once deafened me far behind me, but I’ve also retrieved what I set out for; my girlfriend, who is now a drunken mess of giggles. The overwhelming smell of smoke booze and...vomit are now getting further and further away, as we both stagger down the street towards my apartment. Catra’s mumbling something over and over under her breath, but I try not to pay much intention, until I’m directly addressed.  _

_ “Where are we- we going?” Catra asks, not even trying to hide her slurred speech. I say nothing, I just roll my eyes and walk a little faster, practically dragging Catra by the wrist to get her home. “You’re really pretty, you know.” Catra declares, stopping suddenly. The moon serves for the perfect lighting, which would be romantic under different circumstances. “Do I tell you that enough?” her voice is serious and sad now, and my heart softens.  _

_ “Of course you do.” I assure her, reaching a hand out towards Catra. “You’re really pretty too, baby.” Catra’s face lights up with a smile, as she lets out drunken reels of laughter. Then, she reaches up to me, pulling me in and kissing me firmly. Her breath smells of beer and her lips taste like gin. Honestly, I have to hold my breath to keep from gagging as I pull away. “Come on.” I say softly, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Let’s get you home.” _

_ That’s easier said than done, as Catra stops to look at absolutely everything, pointing at all the lampposts and commenting whenever she sees something shiny. Still, there’s a childlike innocence in the way she finds such happiness in the smallest of things that I admire, and by the time we stagger through the front door, we’re both smiling.  _

  
  


_ “Okay, water for you, and then bed.”  _

_ Catra pouts, but doesn’t protest, as she pads into the bedroom. A moment later, I join her, a glass of water in my hand. After downing the lot, Catra looks up at me with big eyes and a sheepish smile. “This hangover is gonna be a bitch.”  _

_ Despite myself, I let out a quiet chuckle before pulling Catra down onto the bed and wrapping us both in sheets. Catra clings to me like a lifeline, burying her face into the crook of my neck, and I breathe in her smell. After a beat of silence, she lets out a long, audible sigh.  _

_ “Are you okay?” I ask, looking down at Catra.  _

_ She just tilts her head with a smile, before leaning in to kiss me. “I love you.” she mumbles into my lips, kissing me again and again until we’re both breathless. Catra brings a hand up, tracing my lips with her thumb as a strange expression forms on her face. It’s as though she’s seeing me for the very first time.  _

_ “What?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.  _

_ “Marry me.” Catra says suddenly, taking me by surprise. For a second, she sounds stone cold sober.  _

_ My eyes widen, as I blink back in response. “Sorry?” I think that maybe I’ve misheard, or that she’s joking. There’s no way she could mean it, right? _

_ “Marry me.” Catra repeats, her voice sincere.  _

_ I just laugh again, this time nervously, as I pull Catra into my chest. “You’re drunk.” I tell Catra, who hums in response. She doesn’t mean it. We’re not ready to get married. Are we? “Are you serious? You want to get married?” I question, but Catra is already snoring gently in my arms.  _

/-/

To see Catra sitting in the living room, reading under the lamplight at such an unearthly hour is something I could never have prepared myself for. I was woken from my sleep by a dream, a strange one that could have been a memory. All I came down for was a glass of water, but now I think I’ve found something better. 

“Catra?” The brunette looks up from her book with big eyes, to meet my gaze. “It’s so late.” I make my way over to the sofa, ignoring my thirst for water, instead more interested in Catra’s late night book club. “What are you reading?” I ask, genuinely interested, as I flop down onto the sofa beside her. 

“While the East Wind Blows by Grázie Deledda.” she says, before laughing at the face I make. 

“Can you read it to me?”

Catra looks up, surprised by my request, but then her face softens and she nods her head. “Sure.”

With a confused expression, she watches as I push her back into the cushions of the couch. She doesn’t quite understand what’s happening until I place a pillow in her lap and lay my head down onto it. Sighing contently, I curl my legs up, shifting to get comfortable. Catra just watches in surprised silence for a long moment. I suppose it comes as a shock to her that I’m not staying six feet away from her anymore. She can’t help but smile, reaching out her spare hand to stroke her fingers through my hair. I’m sure this book will be dull, but I don't really care. I just want to hear her voice. 

“I can start at the beginning if you like?” Catra offers, her voice small, but I just shake my head. 

“No, it’s okay.” I tell her softly, as her fingers tangle through my hair. “Wherever you got to is fine.” 

“Alright.” she says, and then she starts to read.  _ “ ‘But for what purpose? To what use is our body to us when we are dead?’ ‘Well,’ answered the peasant, 'isn’t it a divine grace to not be reduced to ashes? And when we arrive at the universal judgement, would it not be wonderful to find one’s body intact?’ ''  _ she continues to read softly, pausing every now and then to ask if I’m still listening. Every time, I nod my head, even though I’m usually not. I’m too busy thinking about the nights we used to spend like this, quiet nights on the sofa. Of course, it’s different now, but still. There’s something so addictive about her voice. The way she speaks, slow and clear, makes me want to melt, and twists something inside me that I didn’t know I could feel. I want to remember falling asleep to the softness of Catra’s voice, and the feeling of her hands raking through my hair. I don’t remember though. I feel my eyelids grow heavier, and the light of the room fades to blackness. 

I like this, I decide. It feels familiar. It feels intimate. 

  
  



	6. Hangover Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just started back at school today, so updates may end up being a little slow- sorry! 
> 
> Also, I just got Twitter, so come shout at me! @Ayano187  
> Please, I need friends :) 
> 
> Okay, lastly, there is so much angst in this I'm so sorry. It's going to be a little bit sad for a while, but I promise it gets better! Enjoy x

It’s cold this morning. I know, because it’s what wakes me from my peaceful sleep and makes me burrow further underneath the blanket for some warmth. Annoyingly, I don’t find it. Every part of the bed is just as cold. The night before is a mess in my mind, a tangle of strings that don’t attach. I don’t remember much about it until I shift once again in my bed, and my hand greets the arm of the sofa like an unwelcome reminder that this isn’t my bed at all. My eyes pop open quickly with panic, and I’m even more confused when they settle on an arm wrapped across my waist like a present wraps a gift. At first, I’m not even sure where I am. My head is pressed back into the cushions, a blanket draped over me, and underneath it, my legs are entwined with…

_ Oh.  _

I stiffen, trying to explore the situation with minimal movement. I don’t want to risk waking Catra up. Her arm still lies protectively over my waist, and her head is tilted like a bird into the nest of my collar bones. Warm breaths fan across my skin, sending a ripple of goosebumps through me. Brown strands meet my own blonde ones, which is pretty but also confusing. The intense urge to move washes over me, probably because I’m trying so hard not to. Catra looks so pretty in her sleep, so peaceful. Strangely, I don’t feel the need to escape like I thought I would. I don’t want to disappear. That is, until Catra’s eyes flutter open in front of me, and I swallow hard. The dark haired girl tightens her grip on me, letting out a sleepy moan before relaxing again. She doesn’t seem that bothered, though I suppose this is normal for her.  _ Was  _ normal. It’s new for me though, and I’m not sure what to do. 

Her eyes meet mine before I have the chance to look away, and I notice that hers are wide, and still glazed over with sleep. She’s watching me, confusion drawn over her face, as it no doubt is on mine too. I move first, pushing Catra away quickly, trying desperately to untangle our legs. The blanket makes it a difficult task. She chuckles, making me blush, but ultimately giving me the push I need to scramble off both her and the sofa. To my relief, I see that our clothes are still on our bodies and not...elsewhere. 

“What time is it?” she asks me sleepily, rubbing her eyes. She’s still unphased, and I’m not sure if that fact relieves me or annoys me. I can’t help but think about the memories I no longer have, of waking up together in a totally different situation. I never thought we’d end up like this, and I’m sure Catra feels the same. 

“I have no idea.” I confess, as I try to peel my eyes away from her. I can’t. She’s gorgeous, though I’d rather die than admit that out loud. Her dark curls, though messy from the night on the sofa, frame her face perfectly as the light from the open curtains shines down on her face. Bright multi-coloured eyes blink back at me, eyebrows furrowed. I’m staring at her, I know I am, but nothing in the world can get me to stop. A part of me wonders what she’d do if I leaned over and pressed my lips against hers. If I didn’t say anything at all, I just did it. I want to try it. I  _ really  _ want to try it. I don’t though. I’m not ready yet. Instead, I just watch as she stands, stretching out her arms and yawning. That’s when I remember that I’m still sprawled out on the floor like an idiot. Blushing all over again, I scramble to my feet, clutching onto the arm of the sofa for support as I watch her disappear around the corner. 

“I’m gonna go wake Finn.” she tells me, and then I’m left alone, listening to her footsteps on the stairs. 

  
  


/-/

  
  


“What are you doing?” I ask, making my way into the kitchen. Catra stands at the counter, knife in hand, slicing through a stick of celery and chopping it up into  _ tiny  _ green pieces. The sun shining through the open kitchen window reflects my mood perfectly. I’m happy this morning, why shouldn’t I be? I slept well, without any bad dreams, and now I’m standing in my kitchen with my wife on a sunny Sunday morning. Now if only I could remember who she is…

I flinch, cursing how easily I can turn a happy mood into a dismal one. 

“Cooking dinner.” Catra tells me, without looking up. With a look of concentration spread across her face, she scoops up the celery slices and throws them into a pan among tomatoes, carrots and herbs. 

“Why so small?” I ask, eyeing up the tiniest pastry cases I have ever seen. 

“Oh,” Catra says, looking up for the first time, “well, I invited some friends over for lunch.” she explains. “Entrapta is coming, and she really likes small food.” I just nod along, but in my head, I’m trying to picture which one Entrapta is. Not the flowery one, that’s Perfuma. Or is that Mermista? Catra must notice the face that I pull, because she offers me a smile. “I thought you might enjoy some company.” 

I would. Probably. Either way, it’s the thought that counts. “Can I help?” I offer, moving further into the kitchen.

Catra looks up again, a grin curved across the majority of her face. “Sure.” I round the corner as Catra reaches out to me, gently tugging me towards her. “Here.” she says, passing me the knife. “Can you cut these?” she asks softly, and I nod. 

“Like this?” I ask, demonstrating with the knife. The cut is clean, and I hear the knife hit the board when I’m done. Not bad, in my opinion, but Catra shakes her head with a kind smile. 

“Smaller.” She laughs when I pout at her. “Let me show you.” she offers, moving towards me. I assume she’ll just take the knife off me and do it herself, but she doesn’t. Instead, she steps behind me, leaning over my shoulder and reaching for the knife. “Here.” She picks up the knife and hands it to me. I grip it with a shaking hand until she brings her own hand to rest on top of mine. I’m like a puppet now, as she moves my hands for me. “Try again.” she instructs, so I do, holding my breath as I make the cut. Despite my shaking hands, this slice is smaller and thinner. “There you go!” Catra praises me, and I feel my cheeks heat up.

Now that I know what I’m doing, I expect her to move away, but she doesn’t. She just stays where she is, pressed against my back. If things were the way they used to be, and I still had nine years worth of memories, she might even put her hands on waist. I kind of want her to. I wonder what would happen if I turned around and kissed her. She’d probably kiss me back, I am her wife after all. But, oh God, what if she asks why I did it. I doubt _“I wanted to see what would happen.”_ is a good enough answer here. Instead I just take a deep breath and keep cutting, praying to God that she can’t see the clear blush on my cheeks. 

I wonder what it would be like to kiss her. Would it be as good as it is in my dreams? Probably better. I flinch a little at the contact, as I feel her hands brush down my arms. The contact is small, and her nails barely even touch my skin, but it’s enough to make my stomach flip. Her hands are so soft, and I bet her lips are softer…

She’s messing with me. Of course she is. What kind of game is she playing?

My whole body tingles as I lean backwards into her. She smells so good, so familiar, and she’s so warm. Still, I’m too scared to turn around. What if I do something wrong? What if Catra doesn’t like it?

Catra still hasn’t moved. It’s like she’s testing me. That’s when I feel warm fingers where my shirt rides up a little, brushing against the exposed skin. My breath hitches, caught in my throat, and a soft chuckle escapes Catra’s lips in response. 

After putting the knife down, I turn around slowly in her arms, looking down into her eyes. My heart is hammering so loudly in my chest, she can probably hear it, and my stomach tightens uncomfortably. We’re so close now, as she moves her hands down to my waist, pulling me closer. I’ve never kissed a girl before. I’ve never kissed  _ anyone  _ before. Well, I have, since I’m married and all, but I don’t remember that. This would be a first in so many ways. 

“Catra, I…” 

“You?” Her voice is so soft. Her hands are so soft. Her lips are probably softer. I swallow as she quirks her brow, and then I’m doing it, leaning in as my hands find her face. It’s the knock at the door that stops me. I freeze where I am, and Catra turns her head towards the front door with a disappointed frown. “They must be here.” she says, before looking back at me. I still want to do it, I really do, but my confidence is ruined. I just pull my hand away from her jaw awkwardly, letting it fall back down to my side. She takes the hint, backing off and making her way to the front door. Plastering a smile onto her face, she swings it open and begins to greet our guests. 

I pretend that her fake laugh doesn’t bother me. I pretend that I can’t still feel her hands on my waist. I pretend that I don’t want to march over to the door and kiss her right then and there, in front of all her friends. Instead, I just release a breath I didn’t even know I had been holding, and turn to face the friends I have forgotten I had. 

/-/

We’ve never had visitors before, so I’m not sure how I should react when I find my kid in the living room with a beautiful blonde haired stranger. They’re sitting on the couch, talking quietly. I probably wouldn’t have minded much, until Finn bursts out into laughter, and curiosity gets the better of me. Moving further into the room, I can see the woman’s face now, and I recognise her from the photos Glimmer showed me. She looks exactly the same, with flowing blonde curls and a happy smile. Freckles decorate her face and shoulders, which I can see peeking out of her strap dress. 

“Um,” I clear my throat awkwardly, and they both turn to look at me. I know who this is, and her name is on the tip of my tongue.

“Hi! She says with a bright smile. Her voice is as sweet as honey, and it makes me happy to hear. 

“Don’t tell me!” I say quickly, squinting in thought. “Perfuma…?” 

“Yes!” she claps her hands together, looking utterly thrilled. “Do you remember me?” she asks hopefully, and my heart sinks in my chest. 

“Oh,” I shuffle awkwardly, playing with my hands in front of me. “Um, no. Not really, sorry.” I’m not sure what to tell her. Her face falls, and I feel like guilt is stabbing me in the gut. “Glimmer showed me some photos, so I just, sort of...remembered…” 

She tilts her head a little, looking up at me like I’m a crazy person. She must notice how uncomfortable I am by that, because her face breaks out into a soft smile. “Glimmer.” she repeats, her eyes glowing. “She’s a doll.” I just nod my agreement with an awkward smile. 

“Are we eating yet?” Finn whines from their seat on the sofa, and we all let out a soft chuckle. 

“I’m not sure.” I tell them, as I ruffle their hair. “Why don’t you go ask your mamá?” Finn nods their head excitedly before hopping down off the sofa and scampering out of the room to find their mother. The opportunity is wide open now for me to take Finn’s seat and talk to Perfuma. I’m not sure what I’ll say, but I open my mouth anyway. “So, how do you know Catra?” I ask, genuinely interested to know the answer. When Perfuma frowns again, I know that was the wrong question to ask. 

“Actually,” she says, keeping her voice soft. “You introduced us.” 

That surprises me, but I don’t say anything. I just blink back with wide eyes. Perfuma was  _ my  _ friend first. She’s  _ my  _ friend and I don’t even remember her. This isn’t the time or place to cry, so I swallow back my emotions and stand up quickly. Some kind of excuse tumbles from my lips, and then I’m out of the room. I don’t make it far though, as my blurry vision makes me walk straight into another guest. 

“Adora!” she squeals, just as excited as Perfuma had been. It’s honestly hard to believe Catra is friends with these people, they just seem so different from her. A small yelp escapes my lips, as this new stranger pulls me into a hug, squeezing my shoulders tightly. I look up at her when she finally lets me go, taking in the sight. She’s tall, much taller than me, with a shock of short white hair. She’s wearing black lipstick, which absolutely rocks with her red outfit. Appearance-wise she looks almost intimidating, but it’s clear from her bubbly personality that she isn’t. “Sorry, was that too much?” she asks, looking genuinely worried. “Ah boy, I just missed you so much!” 

I try my best to smile up at her, but it comes out all wonky and wrong. Instead, I just back away from her, turning on my heels towards the kitchen, where I intend to hide until Catra calls us all for dinner. It’s quieter in here, and the air is easier to breathe. I know these people are supposed to be my friends, but this is all just so overwhelming. I don’t remember. I don’t, but I want to. I must have made so many memories with these people, and now I can’t even remember their names. 

“Are you okay?” 

The voice brings me almost instant calm, and I turn quickly with a grateful smile. Catra stands, keeping a safe distance from me since our...moment. She’s changed since then though. Now, she wears a red shirt with the top few buttons left undone. A black blazer hangs open over her shoulders, matching her black dress pants. Her dark hair still falls in familiar curls around her neck. My eyes skim over her face- fresh makeup and a tauntingly gorgeous amount of eyeliner- with ease. The sight is almost overwhelming, and it’s a challenge to try and keep my saliva inside my mouth, so I swallow hard. I haven’t said anything in a little too long, and her concerned frown deepens. 

“Yes!” I blurt out suddenly, unable to tear my eyes away from the sight in front of me. “Yes, I’m okay.” She raises an eyebrow, watching me for a moment longer before her worried expression melts into a smug grin. A fondness fills my heart all over again, and I feel the tension between us evaporate almost immediately. “This is just...a lot.” 

She nods her head like she understands what I mean and moves towards me. “You don’t have to do this, you know.” she tells me, reaching out a hand towards me. With it, she gently tugs me forward, pulling me into her. I don’t resist, giving in to the urge to fall against her shoulder. One hand stays on the small of my back, rubbing gentle circles, and the other brushes slowly through my hair, untangling each knot and tangle her fingers find there. “I can send them all home, if you want?” she offers, and I shake my head. I don’t try to talk though, because my words would just be muffled by Catra’s shoulder. She’s warm, and she smells  _ so good.  _ Like home. I think I finally understand what that means now. I pull away after a while, though I really don’t want to, and she looks up at me with those bright, different colored eyes. “Are you okay?” she whispers, as I register that she’s now holding my hand. I don’t mind though. I just tighten my grip ever so slightly, fighting the urge to lean in again. Now just isn’t the right time. 

“Yeah.” I tell her with a soft smile. “I’m okay.” 

-/-

Dinner is actually strangely pleasant. Catra must have warned people to tone down on the questions, because I’m hardly asked any at all. Mostly, I sit in silence, just watching Catra engage in conversation. When she throws her head back in heartful laughter, I feel my stomach flip and my cheeks heat up. I don’t know how she does it to me, but when she’s around, she’s the only thing I care about anymore. The rest of the world just fades away until the only voice I can hear is hers. 

By the end of the evening, I haven’t learned as much about these friends as I could’ve. In fact, the only things I really remember are that Entrapta works for my dad at the First Ones tech company, where she builds and manufactures tech, and Perfuma and Scorpia are dating. That one isn’t particularly surprising, because they’re just so perfect for each other, but I still feel like I should have  _ known.  _ I don’t even realise how late it’s gotten, until we’re all yawning over what must be our fifth bottle of wine. Entrapta doesn’t drink- she says she doesn’t like the taste- and instead sticks to drinking Finn’s juice boxes. Perfuma is driving, and I only had a couple of glasses, so that means…

“Scorpiaaa!” comes her slurred whine from across the table. “Open up that- that bottle of vodka you brought and...we’ll do shots!” 

She’s drunk. That’s actually quite an understatement- she’s  _ absolutely pissed.  _ The part that horrifies me the most though is that Finn is still sitting beside me, their little legs swinging back and forth under the table. 

“Bedtime.” I urge quickly, lifting them up out of their seat. They don’t protest, probably because they’re just as tired as I feel. I carry them all the way up the stairs, before they decide they can walk on their own. I leave them for a moment, while they get dressed and clean their teeth, and instead watch the scene play out from the top of the stairs. 

Catra’s standing now, passing around shot glasses, even though she and Scorpia are the only ones still drinking. She went through  _ five  _ bottles, almost on her own, how has she not blacked out yet? That thought twists something deep inside of me. A memory, plagued with familiarity and lined with the gentle sigh of my silent rage. Why does this feel so wrong? Something about standing on the sidelines and doing  _ nothing  _ is enough to make me want to cry. I don’t. Instead I move quickly, running down the stairs and into the kitchen just in time to snatch the bottle from Catra’s hand before any of the contents can spill out.

She glances up at me with confused eyes before they soften, and she reaches a hand out to me. It falls onto my shoulder, gently resting there as her fingers ghost my neck. “Adora?” she says, like she’s forgotten who I am. Shouldn’t it be the other way around? I just stand there like an idiot, holding a bottle of vodka and shooting her a look intended to sober her up, and quickly. It seems to work, at least a little, and she comes to her senses. “You’re right.” she tells me, even though I didn’t say anything. It’s like she knows what I’m thinking, like she’s reading my mind. “No more drinking.” she gives a firm nod of her head, which I guess is supposed to reassure me, but it only makes me feel worse. I just let out a sigh, dropping the bottle back down onto the table and turning towards the stairs. Finn isn’t going to put themself to bed, and it seems their other mother is occupied. Catra just watches me leave. I can feel her eyes on me, but I don’t turn around. Instead, I try desperately to remember why seeing her so drunk makes me this angry. It’s like there’s a gap in my memory. I should know, but I don’t. Did something happen the night of the accident? Is that why--

“Mommy?” Finn is looking up at me with big blue eyes in the hallway. Slowly, they reach up to take my hand, pulling us both into their bedroom. I don’t even hesitate, I just lie down onto their bed, opening my arms out as an invitation. They accept, snuggling into my embrace as I pull the blankets over us with my spare hand. This feels familiar too. I wonder if it’s normal for us to escape the noise downstairs. I don’t think I can deal with this. My mother was an alcoholic, I almost can’t believe I married one too. Maybe I’m jumping to too many conclusions. Just because Catra got a little tipsy at a party, that doesn’t mean she’s an  _ alcoholic.  _ I can’t imagine I’d ever make that mistake twice. “Why does mamá do that?” Finn asks, making me jump. 

“Do what, my darling?” I ask, a little too softly, as I stroke my fingers through their hair. 

“She gets loud and silly when she drinks that grown up juice.” 

Right. So this isn’t new for either of us then. “She can’t help it.” I whisper back, because it’s probably not a lie. I don’t know what her deal is, and something tells me I won’t have the guts to ask when this is all over. We just lie there for a long time, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on Finn’s ceiling and breathing in time with one another. Once I’m sure that Finn is asleep, I still don’t want to move. I don’t want to know what Catra will say to me once all her guests leave. Maybe they’ve left already. It’s quiet now, and I can’t hear any voices. With a sigh, I gently slip out of Finn’s bed, making sure they’re still soundly sleeping, before I tiptoe out the room. 

Catra is sitting in the kitchen, alone, in the dark. Her back is to me, but I’m sure her expression isn’t as lively as before. She’s holding a glass of water in one hand, and moving her fingers in circles around the rim in another. She doesn’t look up when I enter, and as I round the corner to see her face, I realise why. She’s crying. It looks like she has been for a while. Her skin is patchy and stained with tears. I want to say something, but I’m not sure what, so I just move quietly up behind her and wrap my arms around her shoulders. The contact makes her jump, and then she just cries some more. I try shushing her, but that doesn’t seem to work, and I start to panic. What would Catra do if the roles were reversed? Thinking quickly, I drag her up from her seat so that she’s standing, and then pull her into my chest. She makes some kind of surprised noise, but doesn’t resist. I just hold her for a while as she buries her face in my chest and sobs quietly. I don’t know why. I don’t ask. Maybe this is reminding her of bad memories too, thought at least she gets to remember them. I try not to let that thought get to me though, as I move one hand gently through her hair, the same way she did for me. That seems to do the trick, and she begins to compose herself a little. After a couple of deep, shaking breaths, she pulls away, looking up at me with big red eyes. I can tell she wants to say something, but she isn’t sure what. 

“It’s okay.” I tell her before she has the chance to apologise. Somehow, I just know that’s what she’s trying to say. She nods mutely, looking more and more disappointed in herself with each passing second. “I don’t remember why this makes me so mad, but I’m not going to ask.” I didn’t even think it was possible, but now she looks even more guilty than before. I lean forward, pressing my lips against her forehead ever so gently, but it’s enough to make her relax a little. “Come on,” I tell her softly, taking her hand in mine as I begin to pull her towards the stairs. “Let’s just go to bed.” 

She looks up at me quizzically as she lets herself be dragged up the first few steps. “Wait, you mean, like, together…?” 

I don’t say anything. I can’t, because I’m not even sure if I’m ready for this. She’s spent enough time sleeping on the couch. I don’t give myself time to think though, I just nod back at her and pull her gently through our bedroom door. With the softest of sighs, she flops down onto the bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling. Should I say something? Yeah, I probably should. 

“Are you okay?” I ask, my voice coming out smaller than I intended. She doesn’t say anything, so I slip down into the bed beside her, pulling the blanket up over the both of us. She relaxes a little bit more now, curling up on her side to face away from me, and I pretend that doesn’t bother me. The mattress dips with her weight as she shifts to get comfortable, and then she lies still again. Everything is quiet for the longest time, but somehow I just know she isn’t sleeping. “Catra?” She hums gently, her way of letting me know she’s listening. “Were we okay?” She shifts back around, turning to look at me with a questioning frown. “Before the accident, were we happy?” 

Her face softens, and she looks almost sad for a moment. “Yeah.” she tells me, and I’m sure her answer would be the same even if she were sober. “Yeah, we were great.” 

That thought settles some of the nerves in my stomach, and I soften a little. My thoughts are alive now with images of what our life could have been like before it all went wrong. I like to think we were romantic with each other. She seems like the spontaneous type. I could be wrong though. I hope our marriage wasn’t boring, though after tonight I’m sure that can’t be the case at all. As I’m fading off to sleep, I hear a voice, so quiet that I almost don’t catch what she says. 

“Lo siento, no soy lo que querías.” 

I’m not sure what that means, but she says it so softly, and my mind races with possibilities. The room around me fades to black, as I can’t hold my eyes open any longer. 

_ I’m sorry, I’m not what you wanted.  _

/-/


	7. Every Little Lie Gives Me Butterflies

_ It’s a hot August afternoon, one of my favourite kinds, and I would rather do anything but study. Groaning with annoyance, I fold over the kitchen table, my head resting on an open textbook. I look up again as soft giggles sound from just next to me.  _

_ Catra smiles, her eyes still looking down at her notes. She continues to write furiously, but still responds to my outburst. “You’re so dramatic.” she laughs, and I revel in the sound, my heart skipping a beat.  _

_ We’re sitting at Catra’s kitchen table studying for our midterm exams. Well, Catra’s studying, I’m just staring at my brunette best friend and blushing every time I get caught. Still, on an afternoon as glorious as this, who could blame me for not paying attention? _

_ “Catra!” her mother’s voice calls, scratchy and low. The sound makes both of us jump, and Catra looks up quickly. I pretend not to notice her eyes widen, or the way she clenches her fists, pushing herself away from the table. _

_ “Be right back.” she mumbles, distracted, as she disappears out of the doorway, and around the corner. I wish I knew what to do, but I don’t. There’s nothing I can do, I suppose. Catra’s mom is just like this. She gets angry, blind with rage, at the smallest of things. She adores me though, which I find odd. Why would she be kinder towards me than her own daughter? I’ve never questioned it, though. I’ve never questioned anything that woman has said or done. _

_ Still, at the sound of raised voices, curiosity gets the better of me, and I slide out of my seat. Careful not to be seen, I flatten myself against the doorframe, peeking my head around the corner to catch a glimpse of the scene in front of me. Catra’s mother stands, her hands latched onto her daughter’s shoulders. Her face is cold and unsmiling, while Catra’s is brave, as though she’s trying not to let her fear shine through in her eyes. I’m sure this conversation isn’t meant for me to hear, but I can’t walk away. In a way, this feels like the closest to a crime scene I have ever been. That is, if I don’t count the blood splattered murder I make of my own memories. Ms Weaver tries her luck at a smile. It’s dark and twisted, and anything but comforting. _

_ “Catra.” She says her name like it is a prayer, or the lyrics to her favorite song that she had forgotten for so long. Catra stands her ground, her shoulders back, head high. She’s trying not to melt under her mother’s gaze, trying not to crack under the pressure to be perfect. “You should be studying.” _

_ “We are.” Catra insists, sounding both bored and frustrated. “Adora and I have-” _

_ “Adora.” she repeats my name, and my blood runs cold at the sound. “Why can’t you be more like her? I’m sure her parents are proud to call her their daughter.” I can’t help but cringe at that. Since the divorce, I don’t think either of them care about much anymore. Except maybe Dad’s business sales, or how many bottles of wine Mom can down in one night. No, I don’t think they have the capacity to be proud of me. Catra frowns, clearly unsure of what to say to that. This seems to only anger her mother more, as she reaches out, gripping Catra’s wrist in her whole fist. “Why can’t you follow her example, Catra? Why can’t you be better?” _

_ Catra struggles against her mother’s grip, the fingers that clutch around her wrist stinging at her eyes. It’s not a fair fight, and certainly not a close one. It’s painful to watch, but I can’t seem to look away. _

_ “You’re hurting me.” Catra whispers, her voice small, as she twists her arm uncomfortably. _

_ “Don’t be flippant with me, Catra. Your insolence will get you nowhere.” Ms Weaver reaches out, grabbing onto Catra’s other wrist, and pulling her closer. _

_ A yelp tumbles from Catra’s parted lips, as her once proud demeanor crumbles entirely. “I’m sorry!” she cries out. “I’ll be better. I’ll be like Adora.” _

_ My eyes widen at the scene in front of me. I want to intervene, but what would I say? Fear rises in my chest before I know what it is. I don’t ever want to make Ms Weaver angry. I don’t want to hear what she’ll say, but I can’t stand by and watch any longer. Just as I’m about to step out of my hiding place, a voice stops me. _

_ “You’ve grown fond of her, haven’t you?” Catra says nothing at all, she just blinks up at her mother with wide eyes. “You have feelings for this girl.” It’s not really a question, more of a statement, but Catra nods slowly anyway. Ms Weaver scoffs, staring down at Catra like she’s a child again. ”You really think she cares about you?” she laughs, a dry shallow laugh that ricochets around the living room. A bony hand reaches out to Catra’s face, dragging her chin up to force eye contact. Her voice is a low snarl, her hands holding Catra hostage beneath her fingers. Fighting would be futile- there’s nowhere for Catra to run to. I want to speak up. I want to say  _ something, _anything_ _ , but my words die before they can escape my lips. “Oh, Catra.” she tuts, her voice laced with feigned sympathy. “ Mi querida, por qué te amaría ella?” she grins a little, enjoying the game. I’m not sure what the rules are, all I know is that she’s winning. “Look at you.” she gestures to all of Catra with the hand that isn’t latched around her wrist. “You’re a mess. Why would she want you?” Her eyes are dark now, the amused tone disappearing from her voice. “How could you let yourself be so foolish?” _

_ Catra swallows hard, and I do the same. Holding her head high, Catra keeps her pride, as she blinks away the ghosts of tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. Her eyes are burning, her face brave, but her mother remains unphased. _

_ “I know that poker face all too well.” she declares. “Escucha a tu madre, I don’t want you seeing that girl anymore.” With a frown, she shoves Catra backwards, releasing her grip on her wrist. “I’m just doing what’s best for you.” she lies through gritted teeth, as Catra wraps her arms around herself like a hug. “I’m doing it because I love you.” _

_ I can’t bear to listen anymore. It hurts too much. So, I don’t, turning on my heels back towards the kitchen. I slip down into my seat just in time, pretending to look busy as Catra pads into the room. Looking up with a smile, I try to remain unphased by what I saw. Still, her mother’s words ring in my head. I shouldn’t let Catra get too attached to me- clearly things will only end badly for her if I do. _

_ “Hey, Adora.” She offers me a weak smile, rubbing her arm. _

_ “Are you okay?” I ask, trying to keep my voice light. She doesn’t know that I already know the answer. I want to help her. Maybe I should ask her to stay at mine for a while, to get away from her mom. I don’t want to cause another fight though, so I settle for silence. _

_ “Yeah, just tired.” she lies, and my heart sinks. _

_ “Maybe you should get some rest.” I suggest half-heartedly, already packing up my things. “I should get going now anyway.” That’s a lie, but I’m not sure what else to say. Her mother clearly doesn’t want me here, and I’m not sure that Catra does either. _

_ She just nods, her gaze on the floor. I try not to let it bother me that she doesn’t hug me goodbye. I pretend I don’t notice the red skin around her wrists. I just leave. I leave her all alone in that house, with that woman, feeling more and more guilty with each passing second. _

  
  


/-/

The next few nights when Catra falls into bed beside me, I’m no longer surprised by the dip of the mattress, or the way the blankets fall differently with her small shape. Still, she keeps her distance, and I find myself wondering if she ever sleeps at all, since she stays up reading when I fall asleep, and has usually already left for work by the time I wake up. It’s a little lonely here without her and Finn, and I have no idea what to do without them. So, one morning when I feel Catra begin to slip out of bed, I grab her arm, pulling her back down onto the mattress as a startled yelp escapes her lips. 

“Stay.” I mumble, still half asleep, and she giggles. “You’re warm.” It’s true, she is. So warm, in fact, that I consider breaking the no-contact rule I made in my own head. At this moment, there’s nothing I want more than to wrap myself around her and hold on for dear life.

She just laughs again though, trying once again to peel the blankets off herself. “Come on, dork, I have to go to work.” 

A frown finds its way onto my face, which I quickly turn into a pout. “Can’t you just take the day off?” 

“Do you like having electricity?” she jokes. “Heat? Food-”

“Okay, I get it!” I huff, flopping back into the pillows. Her joking expression turns quickly into a concerned frown, as she watches me from her position, now standing at the window. “I hardly see you anymore.” I pout. I want to be teasing, but I’m not. Ever since Catra went back to work at the office, the only times I really see her are at the dinner table and bedtime. 

“I know.” she says, ever so softly. “I just have a lot to catch up on…” she hesitates, clearly wanting to say more, but then falls quiet. 

“It’s not your fault.” I tell her, sitting up in bed and swinging my legs around the edge. My back is to her now, so I don’t have to see her disappointed frown. I’m not mad at her. If anything, I’m mad at myself. This isn’t the kind of life I intended for myself- just waiting around for Catra to come home. 

“Listen,” she says, and her voice makes me jump, because she’s much closer than she was before. She steps forward again, kneeling down in front of me as I sit on the edge of the bed. “If I take the day off, will that make you happy?” 

“You don’t have to do-”

“I want to.” she insists, and I smile. Her hands reach up, finding my face, as her eyes just skim over me. For a moment, I think she’s going to kiss me, but she doesn’t. Instead, she just lets go, standing up again. Of course she isn’t going to kiss me, because she thinks I don’t want her to. It’s strange, that I have to confess my feelings for my own wife. In a weird way, I want to. To my limited knowledge, I’ve never said those three words to anyone before, except my mom, but that doesn’t count. So wrapped up in my thoughts, I almost don’t notice the outstretched hand that she offers to me. I take it, allowing her to pull me gently to my feet. “Get dressed.” she instructs, abandoning me to walk hastily to the door. “We’ll take Finn to school and then go out for brunch, sound good?” I just nod quickly, greedy to spend more time with Catra. Her face breaks out into a smirk, and I think I hear her mutter, “dork” as she disappears out of the room. 

/-/

An hour later, we’re walking down a paved street, arm in arm. It’s still early, so there aren’t many cars on the road, and the sidewalk is virtually empty. The busy hum of the city surrounds us, as well as the whistling of the wind. The streetlights are still on, even though it’s perfectly bright enough to see without them, and they stain the curbsides with pools of orange light. 

We haven’t eaten yet, but strangely I’m not even hungry. I’d rather just walk close to Catra’s warmth for a little longer, but eventually she slows to a stop outside a quaint coffee shop. It’s cute, with little wooden chairs out front and a small counter inside. She drops my arm, which only bothers me for a moment, and then she’s urging me to sit down. I do, as she moves to sit beside me. 

“This is nice.” I tell her once she’s settled into her chair. She looks so pretty this morning, her hair falling in messy curls around her shoulders like usual. She wears a plain white shirt, decorated with a black blazer and matching pants. Honestly, she looks a little overdressed for brunch in the city, but I’m certainly not complaining. It’s a great look on her. Any look is a great look when Catra comes with it. Everything about her is just so addictive. I watch as she raises an eyebrow at me, and I realise I must have been staring for a little too long. A blush finds its way onto my cheeks, as I look down at the menu in front of me. She came all dressed up and took me to such a nice place… wait, is this a date?! I’m on a date with my wife. Wow, okay, this is weird. 

“Are you okay?” she asks softly, and I glance up. “You look a little panicked.” I shake my head, though she’s not wrong. My attempt at a smile just makes her frown deepen, and she drops her menu back down onto the table. “We can go home if you want?” 

I actually do debate it for a long moment. I’d kill to go home and watch a movie or something, but Catra clearly put a lot of thought into this date. Besides, if we go home, she might change, and I want to enjoy her outfit for just a  _ little  _ longer. So, I just shake my head, plastering a smile onto my face. It doesn’t take long for my smile to turn genuine though, and before I know it, I’m laughing along to every silly story Catra tells me about our life together. Still, I can’t help but notice her avoidance of anything particularly deep, or big landmarks in our relationship. 

“You said we met in school.” I tell her, and she nods with a smile. “Does that mean we were friends before we got together?” 

She makes a face, like she’s thinking, but almost like she doesn’t know the answer herself. “Well,” she hesitates, “I don’t really know if you’d say we were friends.” she says slowly, and I frown. “Like I said, we had a class together. Would you call that friends or peers?” 

I guess I’m not sure. It depends how close we were. That’s something Catra will never be able to describe to me to the same effect as actually remembering it. “So when did we become more than just...peers?” I ask, and she makes a face like she doesn’t want to tell me. It might help me remember something though, so she does. 

“The first Friday of school- we’d known each other less than a week- I invited you to a party.” she tells me, tipping back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest. “You got absolutely batshit drunk and kissed me that night.” 

A small gasp escapes my lips, as she lets out a chuckle. “No way!” I gape. It's an amusing story, but I still can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. “So that’s it? That’s our great love story?” 

“Not even close.” she laughs again, and I sit up in my seat, eager to hear more. “I stopped you before things went  _ too  _ far and took you back to campus. We’re lucky Glimmer was visiting her dad that weekend, because she would have  _ murdered  _ me.” With a tilt of my head, I silently ask her why, and she lets out a soft sigh. “She didn’t want you to go to that party.” she explains slowly. “She never really trusted me much. Anyway, we were pretty close after that, maybe even best friends. We had a mutual silent agreement never to bring up that night again, until we broke the pact just before the Christmas holidays.” 

“What happened?” I ask, genuinely curious. I’m glad our relationship isn’t just built on one drunken night. I’m glad Catra had the sense to put a stop to it. I’m glad there’s more to our story. 

“Are you sure you want me to tell you?” she asks, with a sincere frown. All four legs of her chair find the floor, and she reaches out over the table to take my hand. “It might not be the same if you remember it soon.” 

She has a point, but I do  _ really  _ want to know. My memories don’t seem eager to flood back to me, and I’m getting a little sick of waiting. I want to know everything, but more than that, I want to  _ remember  _ it. So, I don’t press on, instead shaking my head and opting for a different question. 

“Why only Finn?” I ask, hesitantly. 

She frowns. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean…” I hesitate, glancing away as my cheeks turn red. “Would you ever want to have another kid?” 

Catra’s hesitation is longer than mine, and for a moment I’m worried I’ve said the wrong thing. She speaks up eventually though, in a deeper, darker tone. “Kids were never really on the table for me.” she explains, as her voice changes almost unrecognisably. “Neither was marriage, until I met you.” 

“So you wouldn’t want another one?” 

“How about we wait until you can remember the first one.” She’s joking, but it still feels like a knife twisting deep in my stomach. I want to remember, so badly. How am I supposed to be okay with the knowledge that my memories might never come back? She must notice the frown that finds its way onto my face, because she leans forward over the table again. “I’m sorry.” she tells me, and she really means it. 

“It’s okay.” I lie. 

With a small sigh, she sits back in her chair, looking out across the street. It’s busier now, and cars and taxis are alive with movement on the roads. Suited strangers hurry by, late for their 10 o'clock meetings, and the streetlamps have long since died. “Sometimes I forget that you don’t remember.” she admits softly. “It’s hard, having to stop myself from doing something as simple as kissing you.” 

“Why?” That flies from my mouth before I can stop it, and she snaps her head in my direction quickly. Her eyes go wide at my words, as I turn red from across the table. “I mean...I don’t-” Brilliant, now she’s looking at me like I’m crazy. Except, she isn’t. She’s just watching me with a questioning eye and a poorly concealed amused grin. Oh, she’s enjoying this. If anything, that makes it so much worse. Maybe I could save myself, but it’s not like an excuse is ready on the tip of my tongue. Even if it were, I wouldn’t say it. I want to see how this plays out. I don’t say anything at all, I just watch her watch me. Her eyes are almost more astonishing today, two different colors blinking back at me in the morning sun. She’s so pretty. She is, and it isn’t fair. 

“Adora.” There’s something unsettling about the way she says my name, and I try my best to ignore the twisted knots in my stomach, and the blush that no doubt stains my cheeks. “Do you want to go home?” 

_ Yes. _

_ Yes I do. _

I just nod with a shy smile as she rises from her seat. I don’t argue with her over the bill. I don’t think I could say any more words even if I wanted to. She leaves some cash on the table- probably over tipping, but neither of us complain. She just takes my hand, gently tugging me away from the table and down the street. When her fingers entwine with mine, I don’t say anything, but a wide smile breaks out across my face. It’s a good job Catra remembers the way back to the car, because I’m not concentrating at all. My attention stays fixed on her- her hair falling in dark curls around her shoulders, and that  _ outfit.  _ God, she’s gorgeous. 

“Is it alright if I stop by the office first?” she asks me, and I’m forced to tear my eyes away before she catches me staring. A small smile tugs on the edges of my mouth, as I nod my head. My grip on her hand tightens, as I clutch onto her arm like a lifeline. “I just have to pick up some things.” she explains as I let go of her hand to slip into the passenger side of the car. “It shouldn’t take too long.” I nod, and then she’s driving, pulling away from the curb. Sitting back in my seat, I watch the city view blur out the window. Buildings pass me by, busy people wearing suits and ties. Through occasional gaps in the office blocks, I can see the sun reflecting off the surface of the ocean. I never realised how close we are to the shore. Maybe we’ll go for a day trip there at some point, just like in that photo I found in Finn’s room. Catra’s firm isn’t far, and before I realise it, she’s parking the car and unbuckling her seatbelt. “Be right back.” she tells me, but I catch her arm before she can get too far. 

“Can I come with you?” In all honesty, I’m just curious to see where she works. She holds my hand the whole time, which is nice, but almost makes me choke on the butterflies fluttering up my throat. In fact, she only lets go to pull open the front doors. The building isn’t as big as the ones that we passed in the car, but it’s still at least five floors. She leads me up the stairwell, avoiding the elevator like the plague, until we’re walking down a hallway on the fourth floor. 

The office is dark when we step through the door, and Catra fumbles for the light switch. As the lights flicker on, I take in the view. It’s on the smaller side, and a little more cramped than I expected. Two desks are situated here, one pressed against the back wall and the other facing a large window that stretches across the width of the room. A small bookcase sits against the other wall, but instead of books it houses different colored files. I’m sure I’ve been in this office a hundred times before, but this time feels different somehow. Why is my heart beating painfully loudly in my head? Why do I feel giddy with anticipation? I just watch from the doorway as Catra moves towards one of the desks, the messier one with papers scattered all over it. There’s a photo frame sitting atop the wooden surface, and as I look closely, I notice that my own smiling face sits in the frame. Catra is pressing her lips against my cheek, and I’m showing my ringed finger to the camera. It’s weird that I don’t remember.

I just stand awkwardly, watching as Catra sorts through the mess on her desk, clearly looking for something. When she doesn’t find it, a huff escapes her lips, and she glances up at me with a guilty smile. “Wait here.” she instructs. “Back in a sec.” With that, she turns on her heels, her heavy boots carrying her out of the door. 

I watch the cars pass by on the street below me for a while, until the sun’s glare on the window gives me a headache. It’s a gorgeous morning, and I can feel the sun’s warmth through the glass. A few trees line the street below, but aside from that, the view is entirely city- buildings, concrete and cars. In a way, I’m surprised we moved here. Surely there are nicer places to live. Though, I suppose, we came here for Catra’s job. That's what she told me, anyway. She’s the gatekeeper to my memories now, and I hate it. Mostly because she doesn’t tell me much, not unless I ask. Maybe she’s afraid of saying something that will upset me. She’s been gone for a while now, and I'm starting to get bored. I know she told me to wait here, but maybe I’ll just go see where she’s disappeared off to.

My converses are moving before I have time to catch up, my footsteps padding against the carpeted floors down the hallway. The set up of the corridors are unfamiliar to me, so I just walk blindly, relying on my muscle memory. My eyes scan the inscription on one of the doors I pass.  _ Conference Room C.  _ Maybe someone in here can point me in the right direction. My hand grips the door handle with white knuckles, as I listen to the voices inside. I recognise Catra’s voice almost immediately, but the other remains unfamiliar. She sounds angry. I’ve never heard her like that before. The twisted knots that usually lie at the pit of my stomach are now halfway up my throat. I try my best to swallow them back down, but it doesn’t work. Instead, I just shake my head quickly, trying to shake away this feeling, and my blonde ponytail bobs from the movement. Peeking through the crack in the door, I can now see the people inside. Catra stands with her back to me, but I can still tell it’s her from the brown curls that tumble around her shoulders. The stranger speaks calmly, but there’s a certain edge to their voice that I can’t make out. The first thing I notice about them is their height. They’re significantly taller than Catra, and hold their head high with a kind of confidence that I’m envious of. Next, I notice their facial features. Their long face is decorated with thinly pressed lips and eyes so yellow that the whole room seems to light up as they blink back at Catra. Their long hair is so blonde that it’s almost green, and my eyes widen in surprise. They’re wearing a suit, just like Catra. I know this isn’t a conversation meant for my ears. Just as I’m about to walk away though, I catch my name. 

“Adora doesn’t even remember you!” The stranger says, and I watch Catra’s hands clench into fists at her side. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” she asks, the angry growl in her voice coming through. They’re locked in a heated discussion, clearly over me. Catra sounds tired, fed up, like she’d rather be doing anything but having this conversation. Perhaps, just like me, she can’t make herself walk away. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“What if your kid had been in the car?” The stranger shoots back tauntingly, their eyes flashing dangerously. “Do they even make coffins that small?” A gasp escapes my lips at that, and I press myself back against the wall. I don’t want to listen anymore, but I just can’t stop. Why would they say that? It’s so horrible to even think about. “She was willing to put her own life at risk just to get away from you. She didn’t want to be with you anymore, and if she could remember what happened, she still wouldn’t.” 

“You’re wrong.” Catra snaps, her voice breaking, and I can practically hear the tears in her eyes. 

“She doesn’t love you. She doesn’t even remember you, Kitten.” I hear them say. “You could leave tomorrow and it wouldn’t make a difference.” 

I can’t listen anymore. Who the hell does this person think they are? My feet move quickly, pulling me away from that room until I find myself back in Catra’s office. Whatever the hell that was, they can sort it out, and then we’ll both go home. My stomach twists uncomfortably as I wait, counting the seconds on the clock on the wall. Eventually, I hear her heavy footsteps, and she emerges in the doorway. 

“Sorry about that.” she smiles. “Are you ready to go?” 

I don’t say anything, I just smile a tight smile and follow her back down the stairwell. She doesn’t hold my hand this time, and I don’t think I want her to. I have so many questions, so much to say, but I just can’t find the words. I feel like I’m lying to her by not telling her what I heard, but isn’t she lying to me by not telling me what happened? Swallowing the lump in my throat, I glance up at Catra. She keeps her eyes on the road, her expression unreadable, but her lips are tightened into a straight line. 

The rest of the drive home is silent, as an unspoken tension lies between us. I keep playing that stranger’s words on loop in my head, overthinking each word. The more I hear them, the less sense they seem to make. 

_ “She was willing to put her own life at risk just to get away from you.”  _

/-/


	8. Heartbreaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mild content warning for this chapter!! Nothing too hardcore, but it's a little spicy.   
> Enjoy x

It’s quiet when we get home, and the house is darker than the outside. I wonder why we don’t open the curtains more, to let some light in, but I’ve never asked. Maybe it’s just a preference. I feel comfortable here now- like I don’t have to awkwardly stand awaiting an invitation to sit. So, I just do it, flopping down into the cushions on the sofa without even taking my shoes off first. Catra isn’t far behind me, but she doesn’t sit, she just stands at the edge of the room, looking lost in her own head. She doesn’t know that I know why. I don’t think I want to tell her, not yet. I don’t know who that person is, or why they said what they said. In a way, I feel as though it isn’t really my business to ask. Still, their words echo through my head mercilessly, and I’m aching to know what they mean. I wish I could remember. Everything would be easier if I could. Everything would be easier if I hadn’t made it…

No, no, I can’t think that. Catra wouldn’t want me to. Still, I can’t shake the thought from my head. Maybe it would have been better if I had died? I can’t remember my wife, my kid. They have to grieve my loss while I’m still here, still breathing. Maybe putting me in the ground would at least have given them some closure, and Catra wouldn't be stuck here having to care for a woman who looks like her wife, but isn’t. 

I want to remember, and she knows it. Maybe that’s why she looks so guilty. It’s not fair that there are things I have forgotten, memories that have slipped my mind, gaps in my knowledge that will never be filled. I’m not me anymore, and I can’t think of anything worse than that.

“Catra?” The sound of my own voice surprises me. She looks up, a little startled, but then her face softens. “Can I ask you something?” I’m not sure where I’m going with this, but I have to fill the silence somehow. I have to  _ know.  _ “Did my mom ever get better?” 

She frowns, like she’s unsure what I mean. Better at being a mom? Healthier? Happier? Still thinking, she moves forward, slipping down onto the sofa beside me. “Yeah, she was doing pretty good, for a while.” I’m not sure what that means, but I just nod along anyway. “Addiction can be a scary thing.” she tells me, a certain weight to her words that I notice but don't fully understand. “I don’t think she ever meant to hurt you.” she says that softly, quietly, like she’s juggling some kind of inner conflict. Maybe she’s just afraid of saying the wrong thing.

“But she did hurt me.” I tell her, and suddenly my words are heavier too. 

Catra nods, looking down at her hands. There’s a glint in her eyes, which for a moment, I mistake for tears. They’re gone just as quickly as they came though. “I know.” She sounds sad, soft, and...guilty? 

“Were you close with her?” I ask, genuinely interested. 

She pauses at that thought, genuinely contemplating the question as she shifts in her seat a little. “She was like a mom to me,” she tells me slowly, “when my own mother couldn’t be.”

Once again, I nod like I understand, even though I don’t. I couldn’t possibly hope to understand something as personal, as heavy, as that. We fall into a comfortable silence, sitting side by side on the sofa. She looks worn, stressed, tired. Hasn’t she been sleeping? The thing that hits me the most is that Catra is trying. She clearly doesn’t want to talk about this, but maybe she thinks it will help me if she does. Either way, she’s being honest with me. Doesn’t she deserve the same from me? Maybe I should tell her what I heard. Maybe I should wait, and give her the chance to come clean on her own. 

“Catra?” I ask after a long beat of silence. She hums her response. “What's keeping you up?” It’s an innocent enough question that she won’t get suspicious.

It’s sort of a test, I guess, to see if she’ll tell me the truth. I am genuinely interested though. At first, I thought she was just worried, and that's why she wasn’t sleeping, but now I’m not so sure. The worst is over, so why is she always up when I’m up? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her sleeping- aside from that one morning on the sofa…

Maybe it’s something else entirely. Maybe it’s to do with the argument with her colleague in her office. She still doesn't know I was listening. Catra told me we were happy before the accident, so why would that blonde-haired stranger say something so cruel? What if we were on the cusp of a divorce before I lost all my memories? 

“It’s not your job to worry about me, Adora.” 

If it isn’t mine, then whose is it? Isn’t that what a wife is for? That’s all she’s done for months now- worry about me, care for me, love me. Doesn’t she deserve something back? 

“Who was that person you were talking to earlier?” I ask softly- it just tumbles from my lips before I can stop it. Her mouth opens in surprise, then closes again. It isn’t an unfair question, but the look on her face makes me wish I had never asked. 

“DT?” she questions, even though I obviously don’t know. “Just someone I work with. Why?”

Because I want to know why they would suggest Catra should leave me. And what they said about Finn… “I saw you two talking at your office earlier.” I explain softly. “I just wanted to know…” 

Catra’s eyes widen, as her skin turns a little lighter than it’s usual tan. “Oh,” she half-sighs, shifting again so that she's no longer brushed against my arm. There’s a distance between us now, and I can feel it. “They were just asking after you.” 

“Right.” 

She’s lying to me now. Why is she lying to me? What do I not know? My stomach twists uncomfortably, but I try to ignore it in favor of just watching her face. She looks guilty, so guilty, though I can tell she’s trying to hide it. Why? It’s so frustrating. I don’t understand. I want to cry. I want to kiss her. I won’t, though. Not yet.

Maybe she’s been taking such good care of me because she feels bad. She feels sorry for me. No, that’s not enough. Maybe the guilt won’t let her sleep. I try to shake the thought from my head. 

“Adora?” I look up, realising she’s been talking to me for a while, but I wasn’t listening. “What’s wrong?” 

I just shake my head again, looking down at my hands. I don’t think I can look at her eyes anymore. They’re so pretty, she’s so perfect, and the thought makes me want to cry. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m missing something, that there’s something I’m not seeing. Something she’s purposely keeping from me. It’s frustrating, to say the least, and it makes me mad. I wish she’d stop lying, but maybe I don’t want to know the truth. Maybe I’m not ready for my rose tinted glasses to be shattered just yet. This is a beautiful dream, even if I have to wake up someday. That day is not today, so I’ll just pretend for a little longer that my heart doesn’t feel full and bursting out of my chest every time I look at her. 

“Do you want to finish our date?” I ask quietly, trying my luck at a smile. 

She surprises me with a raised eyebrow, a smug smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Our date?” she repeats, a hint of playful teasing in her tone, and I feel my face heat up. She doesn’t push it though, she just nudges my shoulder gently, before leaning over to search for the TV remote on the very messy coffee table. When she finds it, she lets out a triumphant gasp that makes my heart flutter, before settling back into the cushions beside me. I don’t comment when she lets out a long, involuntary yawn, but I do feel bad. She must be so tired. I wish she’d tell me why. 

I don’t pay attention to whatever movie the TV displays. Honestly, I don’t care what it is, as I have no intention of actually watching it. Instead, I keep my eyes fixed on Catra, fascinated by her bi-colored eyes. If she notices me staring, she doesn’t say anything, but she does sneak a little closer to me, leaning lightly against my shoulder. I let her, breathing in her smell. It feels so right, so familiar. I know this, I’m sure I do, and it sparks some kind of realisation within me. A memory, perhaps, resurfacing again after so long. 

She looks up when I take her hand, my thumb moving slowly over the cold band on her finger. My mouth falls open, prepared for words to tumble out, but they don’t come. I just close my mouth again, but that seems to worry her. 

“Adora?” she questions softly, looking down at our connected hands. 

I don’t blame her for being suspicious- this is the first time I’ve initiated contact without much prompting. It’s strange and unusual, yet somehow...familiar? This doesn’t feel like me; I’m just running on autopilot now. Still, my body seems to know what it’s doing, and I don’t want to stop it. I remember something, I know I do. Maybe it’s the couch, or the lighting, or Catra sitting here looking so submissive--

She just stares back at me now, with a strange look on her face. A nice look, I decide. Two thoughts run their course through my head. One- the overwhelming urge to kiss Catra floods through every cell in my body, and physically forcing myself to stay put is a challenge. I want it though, more than I want air to breathe. Two- if I were to do it, I would inevitably screw it up, and Catra will never look at me like this again. 

But I  _ know  _ this. I’m sure I do. Maybe it will bring something back to me if I try. She’s lying to me, I know she is. A part of me wonders what else she’s lying to me about. I don’t think, I can’t think, I just say it. 

“Can I touch you?” I ask, and her eyes widen in genuine confusion. 

“What?” 

“Never mind.” I blurt quietly, merely an outbreath, as I pull my hand away from her. She catches my wrist though, pulling my hand closer to her than before and nodding her head slowly. I swallow hard, following the direction she pulled my arm in with my entire body. She’s confused, I can tell, but I’m just as confused as she is. She sits, still and submissive, as I move my hand to rest on her thigh. I want to slide it further up, but she’d tell me to stop- or maybe she wouldn’t. I don’t really want to find out. A part of me wants to squeeze my eyes tightly shut, but if I keep them open then I might remember, and that’s the point of all this, right? So, I don’t, I just kneel up above her briefly, before settling down into her lap, a leg either side of her hips. Her breathing hitches, but she stills says nothing, staying obediently still beneath me. My hands shake as I reach up to her suit jacket, tugging gently. Something is coming back to me, I can feel it. She’s warm, soft, and it feels oh so familiar. Gently, I tug the jacket off her shoulders, abandoning it when it rests at the ridges of her elbows in favor of the newly exposed skin. My fingers slowly make their way back up, running across the bridge of her collarbone. I just let my body take over, I don’t even think about it. Fingertips brush against the collar of her shirt, but I don’t attempt to remove it. That would be taking it too far. Still, I find the curves of her neck bring back something deep in the recess of my brain, and I ache to be closer to her, if that’s even possible. Our faces are so close together, noses almost touching, but I pull away slightly when I feel her trying to close the gap. 

“Don’t kiss me.” 

She nods slightly in acknowledgment, a needy whine escaping her parted lips, but is still too stunned to speak. Still, her hips buck up slightly as my hands find their way into her hair, brushing through each stand with familiarity. That’s all there is- familiarity. No rush of memories like you see in the movies. Nothing comes flooding back to me, like I expected it to, and it’s frustrating. Maybe if I keep going, it will help, but I don’t want to be unfair. I’m not even sure what it is that I’m remembering- I just know that Catra is safe and warm, and I find myself wanting more. More, like her hands on me, skin on skin, the comforting sound of her breathing. Right now, she seems to be trying so hard not to. She’s probably dying to touch me, and this is torture for her. 

“Kiss me.” The request is simple, quick, more of a plea than anything else. She looks up into my eyes, as if asking for further permission, before she does it. She catches my lips quickly, desperately. She’s hungry for it, and I am too. Her hands move next, pulling me forward into a position that benefits us both. I just let her, gently pulling at her hair as our mouths meet, again and again and again. I thought this would feel strange, that I wouldn't know what to do, but somehow, I do. I can’t remember the act of kissing her, yet this feels so normal. Even the press of her warmth against my body feels familiar, and I ache for more. I’m sure that if she wants to, Catra could just flip me over and push me back into the couch, to take over. I'd probably let her. She doesn’t though. She just kisses me like her life depends on it. I want more, I know I do, and I don’t even flinch when she moves her hands up, tucking them underneath my shirt just a little. Still, it’s enough to send a jolt down my spine, and my skin tingles from the contact. This is it- this is what I want. It’s heaven, it’s everything I could possibly ask for. Our house, our kid, our perfect life. Only, it’s not perfect, is it? She’s lying to me. She’s lying, and I don’t understand why. 

She pulls away from my mouth just long enough to gasp a few quick breaths, then her mouth is crossing my jaw, and moving down my neck. “Adora.” her breath is warm against my skin, her voice so soft and sure. “I want you…” 

It hits me. Hard. 

What am I doing? She’s a liar. She’s my wife, and she’s hiding the truth from me. I don’t know her. I don’t know this. None of my memories are coming back, and now I’m just making new ones. I don’t want it like this. I want it with the knowledge of my past life, and all the love that comes with it. I don’t love her. How could I? I don’t know who she is.

I scramble off her quickly, stumbling as I try to find my feet on the floor. “No.” it’s more of a whimper, a desperate show of vulnerability as I try my best to calm down. “No.” I say again. She’s watching me from the sofa, looking sweaty and desperate, but also worried. Her cheeks are flushed, her hair a little messy from where my hands were exploring. Her jacket still lies halfway down her arms, a show of the love I had tried and failed to give to her. She looks so beautiful and needy, and I long to finish what I started. I can’t though. Not like this. 

I have to go. 

“I’m sorry.” I manage to choke out, before escaping towards the stairs. 

By the time I’ve stumbled into our bedroom, I want to throw up. I feel my insides churn and the contents of my stomach try to claw their way up my throat. I just swallow them back down. That was so stupid, and for what? What was I hoping to accomplish? All I did was make Catra hate me. God, I’m such an idiot. Lowering myself down onto the side of the bed, I put my head in my hands to calm myself down. My heartbeat quickens in my chest, and I can’t quite drag enough air into my lungs to breathe. My vision fogs as I break down into a sob, and then another, until they’ve taken over, shaking me mercilessly. 

/-/

_ This is awesome.  _

_ I’m sure Glimmer would have a heart attack if she found out I ignored her advice and came to the party anyway, but at this moment, I don’t even care. The house is so full it’s practically overflowing, and most of the guests seem to be older than me. That fact doesn’t bother me though. At least, not enough to get me to leave. The noise hits me first, then the sharp lighting, as the party scene settles in around me. People who I’ve never seen before fill the house like it’s some kind of carnival. I guess I just hadn’t realised how many people go to my school. Although, realistically, these aren’t all law students. Rumors of the party probably spread like wildfire, or strangers saw the commotion outside and wanted in on the free alcohol. There’s a lot of it. In fact, the overwhelming smell of booze is starting to make me feel nauseous, so I slip through the crowds and into one of the chairs in the living room and close my eyes. For me, disappearing is never a hard thing to do, but at this party there doesn’t seem to be anywhere to hide.  _

_ “Come on sweetheart, give us a smile.”  _

_ I open one eye, then the other. The view that greets me is not a good one. Some sweaty boy leans over me, close enough that I can smell the beer on his breath. His eyes bear the kind of hunger that is only good in certain situations, unlike this one. Compared to me, he’s young, and I’m sure he should still be in high school. I don’t really think about what to do next, I just let my body take over. I shove him. Hard. So hard, in fact, that he falls right over the edge of the coffee table and into an empty pizza box. The look he gives me sends a wave of dread through me, and I swear my heart stops beating inside my chest.  _

_ “Bitch.” he hisses, before scrambling to his feet and moving quickly back towards me with a clenched fist. _

_ I just close my eyes again, bracing myself for the clap-back of thunder I expect from him. In my defence, I’ve never been to a party like this before. I don’t know what to do, I don’t know who these people are. Everything is too much, the lights, the sounds. Maybe Glimmer was right, maybe I never should have come. The blow that I was expecting never comes though. Instead, I hear a voice call out from further into the party.  _

_ “Hey!” it’s a girl’s voice, though I don’t recognise it at first. “Is there a problem here?” she sounds angry. No, not angry. Defensive. Slowly, I open my eyes, expecting to see the boy leaning over me again. Instead, he’s facing away from me, staring down the source of the voice. “Are you an idiot? I asked you a simple question.” It’s Catra. I don’t know why I’m so surprised; she’s literally the one who invited me here. Still, she’s standing up for me, which isn’t something people do often. The boy says nothing, and for a long moment, I wonder why. That is, until I look up at his face. He seems absolutely terrified- like Catra has the capacity to kill him with a single glance. To be honest, she probably does. He shakes his head, muttering out some words that I don’t catch, before backing off and disappearing into the crowd. _

_ Catra’s still fuming when she turns her gaze to me, but I’m not as scared as that high school loser. Maybe I should be. “Hey,” I say gently, standing up from my seat. Her eyes soften, as if she’s only just realising who I am.  _

_ “Hey, Adora,” she smiles, but she looks tired. “You came.” She doesn’t sound happy about that, but she also doesn’t laugh it in my face. It’s just sort of a simple statement of a fact, so I nod with a small smile.  _

_ “I did.”  _

_ She doesn’t say anything else, so I take a moment to just look at her. She looks absolutely amazing. Her messy brown curls that I’ve grown oh so fond of in the last week fall around her shoulders carelessly. Her different colored eyes seem to glow in the bright lights, as the corners of her mouth twitch up into an uncertain smile. When my eyes fall on her outfit, I almost stop breathing entirely. She’s wearing high waisted ripped jeans that are so grey that they’re practically black. Her fingers, painted at the ends with black nail varnish, are decorated with different rings, which is pretty hot, but I’ll never say that out loud. She also wears a choker, which is equally as attractive, and very edgy. On her top half, she wears a red see-through top that cuts off just before her very toned stomach, and beneath it I can see her black bra- though I suppose that’s the whole point. Her look is decorated nicely with a black leather jacket atop her shoulders. Suddenly, I feel very underdressed, in only a pair of light grey jeans and a red jacket that covers my plain white shirt underneath.  _

_ “You want a drink?” she shouts over the music, and I just nod my head, realising I must have been staring for a little too long. She takes my hand, guiding me through the crowds until I’m standing in the tiled kitchen, where it’s quieter, and also cooler. Without hesitating, she picks up a red plastic cup from the kitchen counter and hands it to me, picking up one for herself.  _

_ I bring it to my face to smell it. “What is it?” I ask, not having to shout anymore. She just shrugs, downing her own drink quickly. I follow suit, gasping as it burns a trail down my throat and into the well of my stomach. Whatever that is must be pretty strong. Maybe it will help me drown out Glimmer’s voice that still plays on repeat in the back of my mind. I better go easy on the drinking though, I don’t want to get wasted. A pretty smirk breaks across her face at my reaction, and I blush.  _

_ “Wanna dance?” she offers, and I nod again with a smile. _

_ The next thing I know, I’m on the dance floor, moving freely as whatever that drink was loosens me up. I told myself I’d go easy, but one drink becomes two, and two becomes a few too many until I’ve completely lost count. By the time I’m done with dancing, I’m a giggling mess on the dance floor, and the edges of my vision are faded. As I feel someone against my back, I laugh, turning around. The face isn’t the familiar one I expected though, and the smile slips from my own face. Where’s Catra? I look around, scanning the nearby people for the very reason I’m at this party, but I find nothing. As I’m searching though, my eyes fall on a mess of brown curls slipping out of the back door. There’s my lead. I push away from the stranger, making my way towards the exit. _

_ The door is a little heavier than I expect, but the cool night air hits my face as I make my escape. It’s quieter out here, and dark too, but the moonlight more than makes up for the lack of lighting. The garden is surprisingly empty, with only an abandoned beer pong game and a group of kids smoking towards the other end of the garden. Catra’s smoking too, but she’s alone, leaning with one foot up against the side of the house. _

_ “Hey,” I greet her with a small smile, and she looks up quickly. Her eyes soften when they find mine though. She nods her head in acknowledgement, before blowing out a puff of smoke. I pull a face, and she snorts, reaching out a hand to me. Her fingers clasp around the edge of my jacket, as she pulls me in towards her.  _

_ “Want one?” she asks, holding out the packet. I shake my head, making another face, and she shrugs. “Suit yourself, Princess.” She’s done with her cigarette now though, and she stomps it out beneath her boot.  _

_ “It’s cold out here.” I tell her, not a question, just a statement.  _

_ She frowns for a second, looking genuinely concerned. “You want my jacket?” she asks, her voice small, and I shake my head quickly with a nervous laugh. “Good,” she snorts, “cuz I’m cold too.” Her laugh is beautiful, high pitched and squeaky, and it sets my heart on fire. The moonlight lights up her features, her glowing eyes and perfect smile and she throws her head back.  _

_ “Catra.” I say, though I’m not sure why. It’s a pretty name, and it feels good in my mouth.  _

_ She grins widely as I say it. “That’s me.”  _

_ As I watch her perfect face, something new flashes across her eyes. “Come here.” I say suddenly, grabbing her hand. _

_ She complies, stepping closer, but she glances up at me sceptically. “How drunk are you?” _

_ I don’t answer that. I just do it. My hands find her waist, pulling her sharply into me. Her yelp of surprise is quickly smothered by my mouth though, as I press our lips together firmly. She’s frozen for a long moment, and I start to panic. My drunken thoughts race wildly around my head as I pull away from her. An apology starts to crawl onto the tip on my tongue, but before I can form the words, her hands are cupping my face, pulling me back into her. The collision of our lips is firmer this time, more forceful, as I push her back into the side of the house. I kiss her properly and deeply this time, soaking up as much of her as I can. If my mind were sober, it would be screaming at me. I’ve never kissed anyone before, especially not a girl. I didn’t even realise that’s what I’m into. Still, I’m here with Catra now, and I’m very very into it. Is she into it? Doesn’t she have a girlfriend? ...kind of. I’m not sober though, and my brain can only think of one thing at this moment. Catra. It’s like tunnel vision- the whole world fades and all I can see is her. Each desperate kiss is followed quickly by another, as I ache to be closer to her. My hands are moving now, snaking their way slowly underneath her cropped top. Hers are still on my face, ghosting my neck, pulling at the collar of my jacket. I think she would put them in my hair, but the ponytail I’m wearing is a little restrictive. We’re so close now, we’re practically one person. Lips on lips, hands  _ everywhere _. I never realised how much I want this. Maybe I always knew, from the first moment she stepped into my class and slid into the seat beside me. Still, Glimmer’s voice keeps ringing in the back of my head, getting louder and louder with every inch of Catra’s skin that my hands explore. In this light, I think I’ll be the first to put a stop to this, but I’m not. She pulls away from me, breathless and gasping. I can still taste her on my lips, smoke and alcohol all merging into one. I just want to melt back into her, keep kissing her until the sun comes up, but as I lean in again, my lips are greeted with her fingers instead.  _

_ “Adora, stop.” she whispers breathlessly, as I scan her face. My hands freeze their movement now, worried I may have done something wrong.  _

_ “What?” I ask, fighting the dangerous temptation to ignore her and keep going anyway. “Why?”  _

_ Her expression hardens, as she pushes me away from her. It’s light, and intended to be kind, but my cheeks still flush from embarrassment. “You’re drunk.” she says simply, firmly, as she pulls the packet of cigarettes back out from her pocket.  _

_ “So are you!”  _

_ “I’m under the limit.” she shrugs, pressing a lighter to the nib of the cigarette she holds between her teeth.  _

_ I just watch her, the way she kissed me so easily and is now acting like it’s nothing. That was a first for me in so many ways, did it really mean nothing to her? “Do you not…?” I try to speak, but the words just aren’t there. She glances up at me with soft eyes, and I can tell she’s willing me to just let it go. I don’t though. “I don’t understand.” I tell her. “I thought you liked me?” I don’t want to cry, but I will if she keeps looking at me like that- like I hung the stars and moon in the sky just for her.  _

_ “I do.” she tells me softly. “If I’m being honest, I have since I first saw you.” I can tell she wants to reach out to me, but she stays where she is, wrapping her spare arm around herself like a hug. “But you’re drunk.” she laughs a short, dry laugh, before stomping out her unfinished cigarette. “I know you don’t mean it.”  _

_ “I do mean it!” I protest, reaching my hand out to her. She doesn’t stop as it snakes back around her waist, and instead she looks up at me with big hopeful eyes. _

_ Then, as if the spell is broken, she shakes her head with a soft sigh. “You probably won’t even remember this tomorrow.” My heart burns with the intense longing to kiss her again, but a part of me seems to think she’s right. The edges of my vision are blurry, and my head is starting to spin. “You wouldn’t want to do this if you were sober.” she says that sadly, and it breaks my heart. I want to tell her she’s wrong, but I can’t. I don’t know whether that’s true, whether I’d want her the same way I do now. We haven’t known each other long, barely a week, but I still feel this insane urge to just be with her. I take a moment, gazing down into her perfect eyes, before nodding slowly and releasing my grip on her. Despite everything she just said, she looks disappointed as I step away. “Come on,” she says softly, taking my hand. “I’ll drive us back to campus.” _

_ When I wake up the next morning, I don’t remember much about last night, but I do remember Catra. I remember her multicolored eyes, her beautiful brown curls, how her lips felt against mine. I don’t know how I feel about her now that the liquor is out of my head, but I do know one thing: Glimmer was wrong. Catra has the heart of an angel, and I’d trust her with my life.  _


	9. The Truth, and Nothing but the Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I cried while writing this chapter. You've been warned...
> 
> Also it's super duper long, sorry!
> 
> Lastly, thanks for all your lovely comments! They really keep me motivated so thanks for giving me the push I need to update frequently. I try to reply to as many of them as I can, but if I haven't then just know I've read it and I appreciate all the love so much!! Okay, now I'm just rambling so I'll shush.  
> Enjoy x

She doesn’t come after me right away, she just gives me space to breathe. When the door finally creaks open, she’s properly dressed again, and wearing a worried frown across her pretty face. Clearly, she isn’t here to finish what I started. 

“I just wanted to remember.” I sob, before she can say anything, and she walks very slowly towards me. 

Kneeling down in front of me, she takes my hand in hers- the one that isn’t wrapped around my stomach like a hug. “Remember what?” she asks softly, rubbing circles into my palm. 

“I don’t know.” I admit, resisting the urge to collapse into her arms on the floor. “I thought that maybe I remembered something.” It’s hard to explain, and suddenly I don’t want to try. These dreams, memories, whatever they are, they’re telling me more than Catra is. That thought makes me mad. “Why would DT say that?” I ask suddenly, and her face changes. I didn’t mean to say it, or maybe I did. It falls from my mouth before I can process it, but now that it’s there, I can’t take it back. “That’s their name, isn’t it? DT?” 

Her mouth opens, then closes, like she’s trying to process. It’s not a hard question- why would they tell Catra to leave me? Why would they say all that about Finn? 

“They didn’t mean anything.” she tells me. “They’re just...like that.” I frown as she says this, unsure whether that’s the whole truth. “Listen, it’s getting late-” she tries, but I can tell she’s just going to change the subject. 

“Please.” that comes out softer than I intended, but I don’t care. I just want to know. “Please tell me.” 

“Adora-”

“I heard you two arguing.” I blurt, finally coming clean. “In your office...I didn’t hear everything, but I heard them tell you to leave me. They said I wasn’t worth being with because I risked my life trying to get away from you. Is that true?” She says nothing in response, but her avoidance of my eye tells me all I need to know. “Whatever you’re not telling me, I’m  _ begging  _ you, please just say it.” 

It’s silent for the longest time. For a moment, I actually think she’s going to tell me, but instead, she stands, dropping my hand. “We’re both tired. Can we just talk about this tomorrow?” Panic slips through in her voice, and when I stand too, grabbing her arm to turn her back around, I can see it in her eyes. 

“No.” it comes out as an angry growl, and I’m sure my eyes must be glowing furiously. Her refusal to answer my questions just adds fuel to the violently burning fire inside my chest. For the first time since we met at the hospital, she looks small. She’s always been shorter than me, but this is different. She looks small and weak, like she’s carrying the weight of the entire world on her shoulders. Maybe just the weight of a very large secret. “You’re going to tell me right now.” It’s not a question, not anymore. I’m sick of asking but never receiving, so now I’m just taking. Her arm goes limp beneath my grip, as her bi-colored eyes blink up at me. She looks about two seconds away from crying, though I’m sure she won’t. More than anything, she just looks guilty. 

“I love you.” she tells me, and her voice breaks painfully. My grip on her arm loosens, and my heart jumps inside of my chest. With a shaking hand, she reaches up to me, cupping my cheek with her whole palm. For a moment, I think she’s going to kiss me again, but she doesn’t. “I love you so much. And I know you don’t remember right now, but you love me too.” She’s crying now, but no tears fall. I can just hear it in her voice, I can feel it in the tender but desperate way she touches my face. I don’t know what to say. The fact that her cheeks stay dry is enviable, as my own eyes well up. 

I want to say it back, I really do, but I can’t. Not right now, not like this. 

“You haven’t been sleeping.” I say instead, closing my eyes so I don’t have to look at hers anymore. Desperate, pleading, broken. “You haven’t been sleeping, and you lied to me about what happened in your office.” 

“It’s been a long day, why don’t we-”

“Why did they say I was trying to get away from you? What does that mean?” I watch as she runs a hand through her hair, then brings it back towards me. It rests on my arm, and she grips a little too tightly. Maybe she’s afraid I’ll go somewhere. Maybe she’s afraid  _ she  _ will. The questions just keep flying from my mouth as I think of them, and Catra looks like she’s about to throw up. More than anything else, she looks defeated, guilty.

A heartful sob escapes her lips, and she shakes her head as finally tears begin to fall. When they start, they don’t stop, and she pulls her hand away from me to hide her face. “Adora, please. I can’t-” A deep breath does little to calm her, but she tries anyway. “No puedo hacer esto!”

“What is it that you’re so afraid to tell me?” I snap, and she jumps, looking up at me again with a tear stained face. Her hesitation hangs in the air like a death sentence, and I stare her down, willing her to speak first. 

After a deep breath, she does, her tears suddenly gone. She’s all cried out, I suppose, or maybe she just doesn’t want to cry anymore. “Whatever I tell you, will you promise to stay?” 

That question surprises me. She says it softly, hopefully, and her voice is so small. I nod, but that doesn’t seem good enough for her, so I confirm with my words. “I promise.” 

“Okay.” she sniffles, before wiping her face with her sleeve. She’s calm now, composed, and her sincere expression makes me feel sick. She moves slowly, like a walk of shame, and sits beside me on the bed. “Okay.” she says again, but this time her voice is actually there. She’s ready to come clean. In a way, I think this lie has been weighing on her for a while, and she just wants to get it out before it eats her alive. She’s stalled for long enough now, and lets out a long sigh of defeat. “You’re right.” she says slowly. “I haven’t been honest with you. And I haven’t been sleeping because of guilt.” she sighs again, this one more of a gentle exhale. All this time, she refuses to look at me, instead down at her hands in her lap. “I wanted to tell you, I really did but- well, I didn’t know  _ how _ .” Her breathing hitches, as fresh tears sting at her eyes, but she keeps going anyway. “It’s all my fault.” she tells me, her voice breaking. “The accident, I- it was my fault.” I frown at that. How can it be her fault? I was the one driving. “We got into a fight, a bad one, and you left. I tried to stop you but I-” Suddenly, she looks tired. Small. Weak. Like she’s sick of fighting. “You were desperate and determined. You wouldn’t even look at me.” she half-laughs dryly. I’m not sure what’s so funny. 

“You said we were okay.” I say quietly, my voice small, and she looks up at me for the first time. 

“We were.” she tells me, her voice breaking again, but she fights back the tears. “We were so happy.” 

I don’t know what to say. Maybe she didn’t lie to me, she just withheld the truth? Somehow, that doesn’t make anything better. She still did this- to me, to our kid. She broke this family. And it’s  _ her  _ fault I don’t remember who I am. The pain of the last few months, all of it was because of  _ her.  _ At least, that’s what she seems to think. 

“What was the fight about?” 

/-/

It’s late. I’m not sure how late, but the sun went to bed hours ago. I’m pissed, not only because three of my witnesses didn’t show up, but because I shouldn’t  _ be here _ . I should be at home with my wife and kid, not cramped in my office, re-reading the same words over and over again. Each line blurs into the next, a jumble of letters on the page. Blinking quickly, I shake my head and squint hard, as if forcing the report into making some kind of sense. My eyes droop, and the lines blur all over again. Groaning in annoyance, I push my chair back, letting it slam against the wall with a loud crash. 

“Easy there, Kitten.” comes the voice of my colleague, smooth and patronising with a certain flair. “Some of us are trying to work.” 

It isn’t my fault, not really. Despite my best efforts, I can’t pretend to look like I’m concentrating on the report I’m reading. My eyes flit about madly as I try to get the picture of you waiting up, worried, out of my head. God, why is this taking so long? Can’t I just hurry up and go home? All I can think about are those pretty blue eyes, flowing blonde hair, dorky smile that is somehow perfect every damn time. I have to shake my head at least three times before I finally find the motivation to abandon my train of thought. 

With another sigh, I spin around in my chair, glancing up to gaze out of the long window that covers one wall of my shared office. The sun is almost completely gone, and stars hang in the sky, twinkling just above the line of the city. Between the tall tower buildings, I can just make out the long stretch of golden sand reaching towards the sea. The ocean shimmers with the light of the setting sun, creating an envious view. 

“Anxious to get home to that wife of yours?” I just roll my eyes, as my hands rake aggressively through my hair. “I’m not surprised she’s lonely, what with all the time you’ve been spending at the office lately.” That makes me stop short. My hands freeze their movements, and I glance up to meet their gaze. DT likes that reaction and, with a smirk, keeps talking. “Having marriage problems?” No, we’re not. Everything is perfect, just as I want it to be. But now DT has planted that seed of doubt in my mind, and I can feel it beginning to grow. “Seems like you’re eager to be away from her.” 

Why is it so hot in here? Why does the oxygen suddenly feel so unbreathable? Why does my heart beat painfully loudly in my chest? Most of all, why can’t I get that blonde haired dork out of my head? 

I need some air. 

“I’m clocking out." I declare. It’s late, and it’s clear I need to be home right now. I want to tell you I love you. I  _ need  _ to. And I need to hear it back. This just happens sometimes; I get overwhelmed easily, but it’s okay. Nothing I can’t handle, right?

Pushing my chair back quickly, I stagger to my feet. Grabbing the jacket from the back of my chair, my black boots carry me to the door, stomping across the floorboards as I go. DT’s voice calls after me, but I don’t stop, I just keep going until I’m so far down the hallway that I can’t hear them anymore. The rest of the office building is cloaked in darkness, except for the offices of a few other late workers. I can’t help but wonder if they’re in here to avoid their partners. I’m not. I’m  _ not.  _ The urge to get home even faster pushes me down the hallway, past conference rooms, and towards the elevators. Still, I think the stairs will be faster, and I really need to get out  _ now.  _ My office is on the fourth floor, but I don’t care. I don’t want to stop for the elevator, I just need to keep moving. The panic begins to settle in my stomach, and I want to laugh at the absurdity, because I don’t even know  _ why.  _ We really are fine. We’re happy. 

My footsteps echo all the way down the stairwell until I burst through the front door. I don’t make it to my car though. A pain twists uncomfortably in my stomach, and I’m thrown to my knees on the pavement. A strangled kind of yelp echoes through the streets as I clutch myself in an attempt to numb the pain. I’m fine. It’s all in my head, which somehow makes it worse. I shouldn’t be scared that you’ll leave me anymore. We’ve been married for  _ six years.  _ Surely if you were unhappy, you would have left me years ago. That thought doesn’t help. I want to prove myself, to be good enough for you. I've spent most of my life worrying that I'm not. Maybe I really have been spending too much time at work. Maybe you’re glad that I have. 

_ This is ridiculous.  _

I know that. I recognise that. So why won't this twisted sense of urgency leave me alone? It has to go somehow. Usually, your kind words and gentle hands do the trick, but I’m not sure I can drive home like this. I could call you, I suppose, but it won’t be the same. Desperately, I look around for something, anything, that can distract me from the oncoming panic attack. My eyes settle on the bar just across from my office. The front is all lit up with signs advertising their latest alcoholic concoctions. One drink can’t hurt, right? Just one. 

Shaking all over, I rise slowly to my feet and stagger the rest of the way down the street. The bar is loud and alive when I push through the doors, and I hate myself for enjoying the sensation I get as I slip into a bar stool. 

“What can I get for you?” the bartender asks, and I quietly mumble my order, only just audible over the loud chatter of the bar. 

The first drink goes down slowly, carefully, and I savor each sip until the bottle is completely empty. I think I’m done, I think it’s over, and I can go home, but when I spot an open bottle of rum atop the counter, it’s all I can think about. At least I’m not thinking about you anymore, right? Its glass is so clear, I can see my reflection in it. With a shaking hand, I reach out to take it. Lifting it to my face, I press my lips against it. It tastes like home. Within moments, I’ve downed what’s left of it, feeling the kick immediately. Honestly, I missed this. Bringing a hand to my lips, I gently brush where the bottle has touched. Where you have touched. Still, this drinking isn’t enough to make me forget. I drink with such desperation, as though trying to burn your taste out of my mouth. The worst part is that I’m not even sure why. Somehow, after all the alcohol, I can still remember how your lips feel, the way they taste. They still haunt my mouth like a last meal. 

I remember everything- all the fights, all the 3ams, all the times I rearranged my vocabulary, replacing words like ‘unhealthy’ with ‘compromise’. What’s worse is that I remember all the good stuff too- all the times I thought I would die from laughter, all the movie nights, all the I love yous. All that seems so far away now, and with every sip I take, I can feel it slipping through my fingertips. I hate myself. I  _ hate  _ myself. 

“Hey,” I feel a tap on my shoulder, and turn around quickly. A guy stands there, his face seeping with familiarity, but I can’t quite place him. “Catra?” I clearly know this guy, but I’m not sure why. 

“Can I help you?” I’m not trying to be rude, I’m just confused. 

“It’s me, Rogelio.” he says with a charming smile, before turning over his shoulder to point to a booth in the far corner. “Remember?” A girl sits there, a little younger than me, with dark hair in cornrows. She wears a happy smile, and looks blissfully unaware of everything around her. Beside her sits a dusty blonde haired kid, clearly uncomfortable by all the noise, but he looks like he’s having a good time. Lastly, there’s a taller woman, older too. She also wears cornrows, but hers are longer, reaching down around her shoulders. I know these guys. I was  _ friends  _ with these guys, but that all feels like a long time ago. 

“Sure.” I say with a tight smile. “I remember.” 

“Want to come sit with us?”

_ “No, you guys are clearly on something.” _

_ “No, I quit that shit when I met my wife.” _

_ “My wife. I have to get home to my wife.”  _

_ “My kid…” _

Despite myself, I nod, following Rogelio willingly towards their table. 

“Hey Catra!” Kyle greets me with a smile, which I return weakly as I slip down into the booth opposite him. “Wow, it’s been forever since I’ve seen you.” 

“Yeah, how come you don’t come around anymore?” Octavia asks, a hint of judgement in her tone. “Scorpia too.” 

Lonnie snorts, erupting into drunken laughter. “She married Little Miss Perfect and went soft on us.” she giggles, though I don’t get the joke. My fists clench at my sides as I swallow back the retort in my throat. I want to tell Lonnie not to utter a single  _ word  _ against you, but I know better than that. A fight is the last thing I need right now, especially since I’m so heavily outnumbered. 

“Hey, good for you!” Kyle says, not sensing the sarcasm in Lonnie’s words. “You look great by the way.” 

I don’t look particularly better than usual, I just don’t look  _ high  _ anymore. I don’t look rough or tired, or like I want to die. I’m not getting into fights and passing out at roadsides like I used to. I’m doing okay. 

“She does, doesn’t she?” Octavia says with a smug smile. “How about we celebrate with Catra tonight, guys?” A small bag emerges from her pocket, sliding across the table as Octavia tosses it. It’s transparent plastic, so I can see the white powder inside. Lonnie’s eyes light up, and Rogelio just nods his agreement. My throat goes dry. 

“Come on, Catra.” Lonnie urges. “You can have the first line.” 

I want to say  _ no way.  _ I want to get up right now and go home. I still could, I suppose, but now I feel disconnected and numb to all my feelings. Nothing matters anymore. As if I’m worried about feeling too much again, I nod my head, suddenly more eager than before. There isn’t a single part of me that wants to, but I do it anyway. Is this real? This can’t be real. I’m not really breaking my promise to you. There’s no way. I would never do that. 

But I do. 

/-/

The front door opens a little too loudly as I stumble through it. I’m wet from the rain, but that’s the last thing I care about right now. Everything is a little hazy, and for a moment, I can’t even remember why I rushed home so quickly. I even drove while over the limit, so it must be important. It all comes back when my eyes fall on you, and the guilt settles in the pit of my stomach. 

You look up from where you’re munching on a piece of chocolate at the sound of the door. You stayed up. Of course you did. I just stand there, gazing at the girl who always looks at me with impossible warmth. Now, your eyes are cold and empty. I wonder why for a long moment, trying to connect the dots in my head. A glance up at the clock confirms how late it is- 2.34am. 

“Qué pasó?” My voice is low and hoarse, as I take another step forward. “No comprendo...por favor dime qué está pasando.” I don't recognise my own voice- it doesn’t feel like mine. My speech is slurred, but the look you give me is enough to sober me up. “Adora?” 

“I really thought you were getting better.” You say that sadly, accusatory, before turning your eyes down to your hands, which rest on the table. “I thought we were okay.” 

“We are okay, Adora.” I’m moving now, reaching a hand out to my wife. “We are.” 

You move too, standing quickly to put some distance between us. “How is this okay?” you ask, a little too loudly. Both our heads turn in unison towards the stairs- more specifically, Finn’s bedroom. Everything is quiet and still. When I look back, you’re shaking your head. “What happened?” you question quietly, but your face says you don’t want to know. 

“I don’t know.” I admit, with a soft sigh. “I don’t remember much that happened before I woke up. I don’t even remember how I got there.” I know you don’t understand at all, but you don’t voice your questions. You just stand, numb for a long moment, before turning back towards the window. You don’t seem upset or angry, just empty. We were so happy. We were perfect. Why did I have to go and mess it all up? I fall silent, just staring at as much of you as I can from this angle. You don’t want to look at me, that much is clear, and honestly I can’t blame you. “Adora, please listen. I-”

“Don’t touch me!” you snap when I try to reach for you. “Don’t touch me with you- your whiskey stained fingertips.” you move closer to the window now, your whole body shaking as you try to process. Your mind is a mess, and you can't think straight. To me, you look so small, so scared. I think I’d rather you shout at me. Scream until your voice is gone. Just let it all out- let me have it. I deserve it. You don’t though. You’re just quiet for the longest time. Eventually, you speak up, but your voice is so quiet. “You promised.” 

“I’m sorry.” I whisper, and I really mean it. 

When you storm out the front door, the house falls silent. It isn’t peaceful, it isn’t calm, it’s just empty. I call you, over and over, begging into your voicemail for you to come home. Finally, I understand how you must feel every time I disappear without warning. Finally I understand the sickening worry, and I hate it. I don’t expect you to answer, but I have to try. The list of people I can call is short. It’s really late, so that crosses anyone who values their sleep off the list. Bow is a light enough sleeper that his ringtone would wake him up, but then he’ll tell Glimmer, and Glimmer might actually  _ kill  _ me. That leaves me with only one option- an option I never thought I’d have to choose. Trying to swallow back my dread, I scroll through my contacts list and find the least used name there. 

It rings once, then twice, then three times. On the fourth ring, I think about hanging up, but then the receiver clicks. “Hello?” 

“Mamá.” my voice is breathless as I speak into the phone. All over again, I’m overcome with a wave of sobs, and a tight feeling in my chest that shakes me violently. “Ayúdame… I don’t know what to do.” I tell her, as the streams of tears just keep coming. 

“Catra.” Ms Weaver’s voice speaks out clearly, calmly. “What’s going on?”

“She’s gone.” I say, trying desperately to breathe as I wrap my arms around myself. “Adora’s gone and I- I don’t know what to do.” 

“Slow down.” she instructs, her interest clearly peaking at the sound of your name. “Tell me what happened.” 

I can’t do that. I can’t tell my mother, not after last time. “I just-” My mom loves you. It’s no secret that she’s always been more fond of you than her own daughter. It’s because of those feelings that she’s the one I called. She cares just as much as I do. “I need you to come over.” I tell her, trying to keep my voice steady. “I need you to watch Finn while I…” I can feel tears biting at the corners of my eyes again, but I blink them away. I can cry after I know that you're safe. “...while I look for her.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Catra.” she doesn’t sound annoyed, just tired. “She has to come home eventually, right?” I swallow, hard. What if you don’t? What if something terrible has happened to you? What if…

“I grew up with a mother who didn’t want anything to do with me.” The other line falls silent, and I hope she's listening to me. “I don’t remember the last time you hugged me, or told me you’re proud of me. I don’t know you, and you don’t know me, but you’re my mom, and I love you. In your own way, you love me too.” 

“Catra-” 

“You love Adora. I know I’m just a screw up to you, but I love her too. I don’t care if this makes you hate me more, because Adora loves me, and that’s enough.” Old feelings are becoming new again, and it twists uncomfortably in my stomach. I try to block it out though, instead focussing on getting through to my mother. “I need my mom.” 

There’s a long moment of silence, an unsettling one that makes me feel sick. Eventually, she speaks up. “Catra, I don’t-”

“Please.” I’m desperate, and it definitely shows in my voice. “I need you to be my mom right now.  _ Please,  _ just be my mom.” I’m crying now. I can’t help it. Each sob shakes me, and the kitchen counter has to hold my entire weight, so I don’t fall. God, I don’t know what I’ll say if Finn wakes up _.  _ _ “Hey Finn, mommy’s gone missing, but it’s okay, because she’s probably not dead.”  _ They’re four. How am I supposed to explain to them that their mom doesn’t love me anymore? “Please.” 

She’s quiet for the longest time, and I’m so scared that I’ve blown this. My mother has always hated me, and now I’m scared her love for you can’t save me this time. She loves Finn too though, so maybe that will be enough. 

“Okay.” she says eventually. 

“Okay? You mean-”

“I’m on my way.” 

/-/

Everyone is here. The waiting room of the hospital feels like our own private family gathering, as familiar faces surround me, trying to talk to me, trying to  _ help  _ me. Clearly, word spreads quickly. My mother hugged me when she arrived at the front door. Her dark hair was tangled with sleep, so it was clear she didn’t hesitate in coming quickly. She’s with Finn now. How am I supposed to go home? How am I supposed to tell her that you’re-

I can’t be here. I  _ can’t.  _ What am I supposed to do without you? This is all my fault. I did this. Me and my stupid decision. You can’t die. You can’t. There are too many people, it’s too loud and I- 

“Catra.” I look up quickly, my eyes wide and wild at the sound of my name. Glimmer stands before me, looking worried and angry and- Her fists are clenched, and she’s tired from being awoken at such an unearthly hour in the morning. At first, I think she’s going to hit me, or scream at me, but she doesn’t. She surprises me with an embrace, as her arms fit around my waist. Maybe this is just an easy way for her to snap my spine? She doesn’t squeeze tightly though, just firmly enough that I’m sure she means it. “It’s not your fault.” she tells me, but she doesn’t even know. She doesn’t know the story, she doesn’t know just how bad this is. 

For the first time ever, I wrap one arm across her shoulders, pulling her in just a little. “She has to be okay.” I say softly, desperately. I’m sure I’d be crying if I haven't already done that so much. When I got that call from the hospital, I thought I would never breathe normally again. I didn’t think I’d ever stop crying. “I can’t-” I shouldn’t even be here. I caused this. It’s my fault. 

Glimmer pulls away after a while, looking up at me with big eyes. “She’s a fighter.” she assures me. “She’ll be okay.”

I nod, running a hand through my hair. I need some air, but nothing in the world could possibly get me to leave. I’m so lost in my own head, so invisible to the rest of the room, that I don’t even realise Glimmer is rounding everyone up. She herds them all out the door, telling them to give us some space, until it’s just Bow, Glimmer and me. Though, I‘m not sure if I count. Physically, I’m here, but my mind is elsewhere. My mind is with you, happy and laughing, before I ruined  _ everything.  _

I look up as Bow takes my hand, and Glimmer takes the other. They squeeze supportively, and I want to smile back, but I can’t. I think I’ve forgotten how. 

/-/

You’re okay. You’re alive. That’s what the nurses in the ICU say anyway. Everyone left a long time ago, around 7am, and now it’s just me. I’m not going anywhere, I’m not leaving no matter what. Your chest rises and falls in time with your steady breathing, and I just clutch your hand and pray for your eyes to flutter open. I’m still scared they won’t. The doctors say you might not even remember when you wake up, and I’m not sure if that’s a blessing or a curse. I’ll have time to decide that later, right now I just want you to wake up. 

“You can’t leave me.” I whisper, my lips pressed against the back of your hand. “I can’t lose you. Please Adora, just stay.” You look so helpless, so small. Your hair is draped around the pillow in blonde strands, and your skin looks paler than I’ve ever seen it. The cuts and scrapes that cover your hands and face stab me with guilt every time I see them. “Stay.” 

/-/

The room is dark the next time I open my eyes. My head hurts, and I don’t remember where I am. At first, I think this is all some kind of twisted dream, that I’ll wake up in our bed and everything will be okay. That is until I hear a voice behind me, calling my name. Sitting up as much as I can with a low groan, I notice for the first time the bed that I’m hunched over, and the body in it. My body aches from the angle I slept in, and I lean back into the chair beside the bed. My eyes fall on your perfect face and the guilt settles into my stomach all over again, as I ignore the voice from behind me. 

“Catra…” 

“You shouldn’t be here.” I know who it is. I don’t have to ask. I don’t have to turn around. 

“I know.” Lonnie says softly, but I hear her footsteps as she takes another step towards me. Towards you… 

Standing up quickly, I put myself between the two of you protectively. “So leave.” That’s harsh, firmer and louder than I intended. 

“I heard what happened.” she tells me, and I scowl. “I wanted to know…” 

“She’s not dead if that’s what you’re wondering.” I snap. It’s not her fault, it’s mine. Still, I don’t want to see her. I don’t want her to be here when you wake up.  _ If  _ you wake up.

“I didn’t understand at first.” She sounds honest, and it makes me want to listen. “We were supposed to be your friends, I never understood why you stopped hanging out with us.” She looks down now, avoiding my gaze as she plays with her hands in front of her. “Now I get it. What you have, it’s pretty great.” she half-laughs at that, motioning her hand in your direction. “I’m so sorry, Catra.” 

I don’t know what to say. What I have  _ is  _ pretty great. I wouldn’t trade you for the world. Lonnie doesn’t say anything else, she just stands there staring me down. My fists clench at my sides, but I choose not to use them. Instead, I just relax my entire body, hanging my head as I turn back to the chair. I’m exhausted, I don’t want to fight. 

“The doctors said she might not remember what caused the accident.” It isn’t a question, and it doesn’t even necessarily invite conversation. It’s just a simple statement of a fact. “I’ll have to tell her all over again when she wakes up.” The thought makes me feel sick. How can I break your heart all over again? What if you leave me? What if you hate me? What if-

“You don’t have to.” She breathes, and I don’t have the energy to look up. “You could have a clean slate, start over.” She’s right. She’s right, and it kills me. No, I have to tell you. I have to. Don’t I? “I know you want to quit Catra. Maybe now you can.” 

“I can’t not tell her.” 

“What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her.” she pauses a long moment, clearly sensing how unwelcome her presence is. “Just think about it?” 

So I do. 


	10. Leaving

It’s quiet when Catra is done, and she just sits there with tears in her eyes, waiting for me to say something. I’m not sure there’s anything for me to say. It hurts that Catra didn’t want me to remember. All this time, while I’ve been tearing my mind apart for answers, she knew. She’s always known. I don’t think I’m mad though, not really. I don’t remember. How can I be mad about something I don’t remember? 

She says my name softly as she slides off the edge of the bed. “Please say something.” 

“I don’t know what to say.” I admit, my voice impossibly quiet. “Thank you for being honest.” 

She nods her head slowly, looking down at me expectantly, as if waiting for me to say something else. When no more words come, she frowns. “That’s it?” 

Obviously this new-found information isn’t good to hear. It doesn’t feel great, and I can’t say I’m happy about it, but at least there’s something to be unhappy about. At least I’m still here, with Catra. I hate the guilty look she’s giving me, and I want it to go away. I want to make it go away. I don’t like to think that she’s been torturing herself for months over this. She hasn’t been sleeping, and now I know why. Now I understand. I don’t like to think that she’s kept this from me for so long. Up until this confession, I thought she was perfect. She still is, she’s perfect. She doesn’t deserve to feel like this. 

I stand up so slowly, unsure what I’m doing. She just watches me, tracking each movement with careful eyes. “Adora.” she says softly. I can tell she’s scared, though I'm not sure what of. Maybe me. Maybe herself. She wants to reach out to me, I just know it, but she doesn’t. 

“Come here.” I say simply, softly, and her eyes widen. Absolutely terrified, she takes an unsure step towards me. 

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” she asks as I move the rest of the way towards her. “You should shout or scream, or-” The worried expression drops from her face almost instantly, and a softer tone fills her voice. “What are you…?” She looks up, curiosity finding her when no other emotion does. I just stare down at her with a mix of confusion and desire, and I swallow down the lump in my throat. Catra closes her eyes as I close the gap. She’s so close to me now, the gentle curve of her skin, the brown of her curls, and the yellow and blue eyes that now blink up at me. I’m not sure which one I get more lost in. “I don’t understand, are you-”

My lips are on hers before she can finish her sentence, and she just lets it happen. My hands find their way around her waist, pulling her closer, and that seems to bring her back to reality. Before I know it, she’s kissing me back, deepening it with her own intensity. My heart starts to play hopscotch inside my chest, and I let it, as I push Catra into the back of the door. I feel hands in my hair, tugging at my golden strands as I breathe in a familiar scent- home. I ache to be closer to her, pressing her further into the wood behind her back with hot intensity. Through all this, I don’t try to force our lips apart, because I’m sure if I do, realisation will dawn on me and the moment will be broken. Catra seems greedier than I feel, and I smile against her lips, my hands beginning to explore. They brush past her jaw, trailing down her neck. Then, they’re at her waist, pulling at her shirt and untucking it from her pants. 

That’s when she pulls away, looking up at me with parted lips that let out soft panted breaths. “Wait.” she says, breathing heavily. “Are you sure?” I just press my forehead to hers, my hands refusing to let go of her. “I mean, are you sure you want this?”

“More than anything.” 

Every inch of me smiles, and I pull Catra back into me, until I realise she’s shaking her head. “It’s not right.” she tells me, and I frown. “I don’t deserve this.” 

“What do you mean?” I question softly, bringing a hand up to touch her face. She leans into my hand, as tears begin to form in her eyes. “Of course you do.” 

She just shakes her head again. “Why aren’t you mad at me?” she asks, her voice breaking. She looks up at me desperately, almost like she wants me to be furious. Her voice is laced with a kind of panic that is so unlike her, and she holds her hands out to me in a pleading, pathetic gesture. “I lied to you, I-... I did this to you.” Her hands drop back down to her sides as a quiet breath escapes her lips. I’m sure she’d walk away from me, but I still have her pressed against the door, so she just looks away from my gaze instead. “You should hate me.” 

“I could never hate you.” I really mean that. 

“I love you.” she says quietly, still avoiding my gaze. I want to say it back, but I feel like she’s going somewhere with this. “Please, just let yourself feel this, okay?” 

Her head tilts as she looks up into my eyes. My heart skips a beat in my chest, and I fight the urge to kiss her again in favor of listening to her words.  _ Feel this.  _ What does that mean? I feel… I don’t know what I feel. I take a step back, giving her some space. Reaching out for her hand, I zip my fingers into hers and listen to the quiet sound of her breathing. She really wants me to feel this, I can tell. She wants me to yell at her, but I’m not sure why. 

“I feel…” She’s looking up at me hopefully, her eyes glowing. “I feel like I know you a little better now.” I tell her honestly, though I’m not sure it’s what she wants to hear. “And I feel like I know myself better too.” 

She doesn’t visibly deflate, but I can see in her eyes that she was hoping for more. “Okay.” she says, her voice soft. Her gaze is apologetic, pleading, desperate. I have nothing more to offer her, but Catra  _ needs  _ more. 

“I guess I feel…” I hesitate. Whatever I say will upset her, and I so badly don’t want to do that. Still, I can tell she needs this. Desperately, I search my brain for the right words to convey this hurt, to describe the biggest heartbreak I’ve ever felt, yet I come up empty-handed. “Betrayed?” Her eyes widen at that, filled for a moment with an unnamed emotion that almost looks like recognition. Then, she nods slowly as shame burns at her cheeks. Catra is my wife, but she’s so much more than that. She’s my best friend. Getting to know her has been amazing, and I really did think she was perfect. I don’t like the knowledge that I was wrong, that she has flaws just like everyone else. Maybe that’s unfair. She said she broke a promise to me, but I don’t even remember making that promise. I open my mouth, words ready to tumble from my lips, but then close it again when they don’t come. Whatever stumbled sentences I do manage to mutter won’t be anything compared to the depth of my feelings. They’re so complicated.  _ This  _ is so complicated. Suddenly everything has a little more perspective. She lied to me, but somehow that’s not even the worst part. She broke me. Literally. “I thought you loved me.” I whisper, consumed by my own thoughts. 

“I do!” 

“Then what the hell is wrong with you!?” 

I’m shouting now. Oh God, I’m feeling it. I’m feeling it, and it hurts. My hands find her chest, shoving her away. She stumbles a little, but the door catches her before any damage can be done. Why am I angry about something I don’t even remember? Am I angry? Some sick part of me wants to know  _ everything.  _ I want to know how long Catra has been like this. Did I know she was addicted when we first met? Did I love her anyway? I want to know if she’s betrayed me like this before. My hands are shaking now, maybe from the confusion of my sudden change of emotion, so I tug them through my hair just for something to do. Catra just stands, leaning against the door, watching me with wide eyes. I’d feel bad, but she asked for this. She  _ wanted  _ this. Fear is painted clearly across her face, and she’s even trembling slightly. I just look away, beginning to pace the room. 

“You were going to leave me, weren’t you?” I ask, my vision beginning to blur with tears. “You were going to take Finn and start a new life without me.” 

“No!”

“I thought you were perfect.” I tell her, but my voice is more of a choked whisper. “I thought you were too good to be true.”

“Adora, listen-”

“No! I’m so sick of listening!” A gentle buzzing begins to sound at the back of my brain, gradually getting louder and louder. Catra loves me. Even after everything, she stayed. That thought is enough to calm me down, just a little, and I try again with a softer tone. “I don’t want to listen, okay? I just-” I hesitate. My eyes slide down to Catra’s pained expression. She just stands there, looking weak. She’s tired, I’m sure. Her arms hang limply at her sides, her shoulders slumped. She looks defeated. Beaten. She doesn’t move at all, she doesn’t want to make the same mistake twice it seems. For a moment, I think about going to her, wrapping my arms tightly around her and telling her that I’m here. That I’m not leaving again. I don’t though, I just watch. She can’t come towards me, but she can reach me with her words. 

“I wanted to tell you.” she says slowly, softly. “For months now, I’ve been planning how I would-... I couldn't do it. I’m a coward, and I’m sorry.” I don’t have any words, not anymore. Every whisper waiting on the tip of my tongue dissolves, and fresh tears find their way down my face as I take all this in. “Look, I’ll sleep on the couch, give you space, whatever you need, okay? I just- God…” she hesitates, running a hand through her pretty brown hair. “You have every right to hate me, Adora.” she says, and then she stands there, waiting, expectant. For a moment, I imagine what it would be like to hate her. I imagine that I want to. But I can’t. I don’t. 

“I never hated you.” 

She looks up at me hopefully, as I stare down at those mismatching eyes. The silence between us says more than words can. It’s a peace treaty- the quiet after the storm. Then, I break the spell with a sob that shakes me a little too hard. I’m too tired to fight off her arms as she reaches for me, so I just let her pull me into her. She breathes heavily, steadily, as I sob into her shoulder. Her hands rake gently through my hair, calming me down. 

“I love you.” she whispers against my cheek. “I’m so sorry.” 

“I don’t want you to leave me.” is all I can think to say, crying it into her jacket as she plants soft kisses onto the top of my head. “I can’t…”

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere, okay?” she assures me soothingly, as I cling to her like my life depends on it. I need her now, more than I’ve ever needed anything. I need her to love me, and I need to love her back. I do. I love her. “I promise. I’m yours.” 

/-/

_ “Catra?” _

_ It’s late, and the street outside is an unsettling kind of quiet. A light drizzle falls around me, sending glowing droplets of light flying past the lit street lamps. It should be busier, with a rush of traffic, late workers driving home for the holidays. Instead, the late hour turns the street into a ghost town. I spot her figure quickly, crouched at the edge of the road, sitting on the curb. _

_ “Catra.” I call out again, softer this time, as I cautiously make my way towards her. “Are you okay?” I’m not sure why I ask- the answer is fairly obvious. She tries to wipe her face with the back of her hand, but there’s no point. I’ve seen her tears now, and they don’t seem eager to dry up any time soon. “Hey,” my voice is quiet, but my intention is loud, and she hears it. Lowering myself down onto the curb beside her, my hand finds the small of her back rubbing soft circles. Her whole body tenses at the touch, but she doesn’t resist. _

_ “I don’t want her here.” she spits. She’s angry- angry at me. _

_ “I know.” I tell her softly, moving to wrap my arm over her shivering shoulders. It’s cold out here, and she’s soaked through from the rain. “I just thought I could-” _

_ “I don’t care what you thought, Adora.” That’s a snap, cold and harsh, and I flinch at her words. She’s right though, it doesn’t matter what I thought. I should have discussed this with her before I invited her mother to Thanksgiving dinner. _

_ “I’m sorry.” I really mean it. “I didn’t think.” _

_ A long, low sigh escapes her trembling lips as she wipes her face again. The tears have stopped forming in her eyes now, as anger quickly replaces her distress. “Can’t you just tell her to leave?” she asks hopefully, looking up at me with wide eyes. _

_ “Catra, she’s your mom. I can’t just-” _

_ “Please.” The look I once mistook for hope is now something else entirely- something more open, pleading, desperate. Her bi-colored eyes blink up at me in the dim light of the streetlamp, and I can see just how much her mother’s presence bothers her now. I always knew they weren’t close, but now I understand it’s something more. Pure hatred is the only thing I can think of to describe the two’s relationship, or rather, lack of. She isn’t desperate anymore, just angry, and the rage is building up in her chest as she rises shakily to her feet. “I want that woman out of my house.” I try in vain to reach for her, but she just shoves me away. “Now!” _

_ I want to tell her ‘no’, to give her mother another chance, but I can tell this is a battle I’ve already lost. If Catra wanted to make up with her family, she would’ve done so on her own terms. Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten involved. Though, if Catra and I intend to be together for a long time, which I wholeheartedly hope we do, doesn’t that make Ms Weaver my family too? Shouldn’t I get a say? _

_ “Catra,” I say her name slowly, softly, as I rise to join her standing. “I can tell her to leave, to never bother us again, but I think you should talk to her first.” Catra opens her mouth to protest, but I keep talking before she can say anything. “I know you two have...history...but she’s your mom. She’s the only family you have left.” _

_ “That’s not true.” That’s said quickly, with such conviction that I actually believe her for a moment. “I have you.” A smile tugs at my lips, but I swallow it back in favor of comforting Catra. “Family or not, I don’t want her here.” _

_ “Okay.” I say, holding my hands up in surrender. “Okay, I’ll tell her to leave.” _

_ “Thank you.” _

_ A long moment of silence settles between us, with only the distant sound of traffic to serve as background noise. She isn’t looking at me, but down at her feet which rest against the edge of the curb. Guessing what she’s thinking is too hard, so eventually I stop trying. _

_ “Are you alright?” I ask, and Catra just scoffs. “Look, I know this has been hard for you to deal with.” I say softly, trying to reach out a hand to Catra, who scowls and crosses her arms over her chest. “I know you think that-” _

_ “No, you don’t know.” _

_ Letting out a low sigh, I tilt my head, trying to get her to look at me. My patience is beginning to wear thin, but after a deep breath, I compose myself. “Are you okay?” I ask softly, watching as Catra plays with her hands in front of her. _

_ “I’m fine.” she says pointedly. _

_ “You don’t sound fine. Are you sure you’re alright?” _

_ “God Adora, would you stop asking me that every five seconds?” Catra shouts back, my name foaming madly at her mouth. I open my mouth to say something to protest my innocence, but Catra cuts me off. “I swear to God, if you say you’re sorry I’m going to scream!” _

_ And scream she does, making me take a step away from her. I shake my head, running a hand through my messy blonde hair. My whole body shivers as a gust of cold wind blows past my bare legs. “I didn’t realise trying to comfort you was such a crime.” I’m joking, which isn’t a good thing to do right now. _

_ Catra just growls, turning away from me to tug at the ends of her own hair. “What do I have to do to get you to yell at me!” she shouts, turning quickly back around to face me. Behind the anger in her eyes, I see desperation, panic, longing. _

_ “Why do you want me to yell at you?” Catra’s anger coils around her gut, paining her from the inside out, and she has nothing to do with it. It must hurt so much, and she just needs to get it out. “Please.” I say softly, reaching out a gentle hand to touch Catra’s cheek. Each shaking, angry breath she takes just makes me want to hold her even more. “Please, just talk to me.” _

_ “Talk about what?” she asks, her anger fading away with each soft circle I rub against her skin. “Absent parents?” Stepping forward hesitantly I pull Catra into me, pressing our foreheads together as Catra calms down. “How could you ever hope to understand something like that?” she isn’t angry anymore, not really. It had been hard for her to understand at first, why her mother never loved her, why she was never there. Even as a child, she just accepted the abuse as another component of her life. She shut it out, and went on without feeling it. Now she’s feeling it. _

_ My chest feels full, like my heart is growing inside me and there just isn’t space for it. I hold Catra in a tight embrace, whispering soft words of comfort into her hair. “I love you.” is among them, whispered breathlessly with such heavy meaning that it makes Catra hold on a little tighter. Despite her tears, her face lights up with a soft smile, as she whispers the same words back. _

  
  


/-/

  
  


I look up at the sound of gentle knocking at the bedroom door. I’m not sure why she bothers, since it’s hanging wide open anyway. She’s stayed true to her word of giving me space. In fact, I’ve been avoiding her for so long now that I almost don’t even miss her anymore. Almost. 

My private silence in our room was nice until she broke it. It’s like a really good dream; warm, safe. That is until the cold hand of reality slaps me in the face, and my loneliness becomes exactly that- lonely. 

I look up at her briefly, before returning my attention to adjusting my jacket in the mirror. 

“Adora…” her voice makes me sigh, as her figure emerges behind me in the reflection. She’s tired, but she’s always tired. Her dark curls hang limply, and her eyes are unsmiling. She reaches out a hand to me with black painted nails, and it settles on my shoulder. Her touch is warm, familiar. I don’t want it. I shrug her off, jerking wordlessly away as I turn back towards the dresser. “Adora?” She seems intent on talking to me, even though I clearly don’t want her to. A soft sigh escapes her lips, as she hangs her head in defeat. “Look, I just came to tell you that dinner is ready, if you want it.” 

“Can’t, Glimmer will be here soon.” I tell her simply, softly, searching in the top drawer for a necklace that matches my outfit. My hands clutch around a silver locket, beautiful and simple. It’s perfect. Turning it over in my hands, I blink down at it as a sense of familiarity floods every cell in my body. When no memories follow though, I just shrug, clasping it around my neck. 

“Glimmer?” Catra repeats, watching me with confused eyes. I just hum, offering her no kind of explanation. “You didn’t tell me Glimmer’s coming.” 

She sounds upset, which makes me upset, and maybe that's why my words come out the way they do. “Yeah? Well it seems there are a lot of things we don’t tell each other.” I don’t mean to say it, it just falls out. When her eyes blink back at me, wide and filled with hurt, I wish I could take it back. She looks like I just slapped her across the face. As if on cue, a car horn honks from outside, and my phone buzzes with a new message just a moment later. “That’s my ride.”

She says my name again, this time with surprise and...desperation? Almost like she can’t believe I’m really leaving. Almost like she expects me to stay. I don’t say anything else, I don’t even look at her, I just move across the room, towards the door. “Will you be back?” she asks, her voice breaking. She’s scared. She’s terrified that I’m leaving her again. 

“Don’t wait up.” It’s subtly comforting, my way of assuring her that I’ll be back eventually without giving her the satisfaction of a wholehearted response. She doesn’t follow me, she doesn’t even try, and I leave her standing alone and heartbroken in our bedroom. 


End file.
